Salvation in shadow
by odev
Summary: In a world where twisting the very fabric of space and time is commonplace, Harry Potter is considered something extraordinary. Yet when he finally arrives at Hogwarts after being missing for seven years, no one can quite figure out what kind of person he is. Himself included. Darkish themes, no slash, no pairings, some lemons mixed in.
1. Masks

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, if I did then he wouldn't have ended up with a kid called Albus Severus.  
**_This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so the first few chapters might be a bit shaky. If you still hate the story around chapter 12 or so when the action starts to pick up, just discard it, it most likely isn't for you. _

___Small warning, this story is intended as guilty pleasure, a fun little ride. If you come here expecting intricate characters and long deep story lines you're going to be disappointed. If you're just looking for a fun read you'll hopefully enjoy it._

**Chapter 1 - Masks**

Daphne Greengrass's icy blue eyes studied the various students as they settled in their seats, a low hum of discussion permeating the air. Reaching up she flicked her blonde hair behind her ear, stifling a sigh as she noticed some older Slytherin boys trying to covertly ogle her. Shifting her eyes towards them she had to swallow a snort as they quickly averted their eyes, who were they trying to fool?

"Check out Brown."

She glanced at her friend Tracey Davis before turning towards the Gryffindor table, watching with slight amusement as Lavender Brown desperately added some last minute fixes to her make-up. Looking around she realized Brown wasn't the only one, more than one vain girl seemed to be preparing. She knew why of course, today was after all a very significant day. It was the start of their fifth year, their OWL year, yet what had everyone talking was the addition they were getting to the school. Harry Potter was finally going to arrive at Hogwarts.

Daphne felt a slight tinge of annoyance at all the excitement over one single student arriving, yet she understood what the ruckus was about. The-Boy-Who-Lived had practically been a mystery to the entire Wizarding world ever since the fall of the Dark Lord at his hand. Or well, supposedly at his hand. Unlike the majority of the Wizarding world she wasn't about to blindly take that as a fact just because Dumbledore said it happened. What she did know was that Dumbledore had stashed him away, hidden him from everyone, yet in the process lost him. She was only eight years old when it happened, but she remembered the massive manhunt that was launched as Dumbledore sheepishly admitted to having lost track of the boy. There were some very sketchy details about his home that was hidden from the press, yet the overall sense most people got was that Dumbledore had messed up big time.

They never found a single trace of him, it was like the earth itself had swallowed the Potter Heir. That is until two years ago when Gringotts sent the usual mandatory missive to the Ministry of Magic, informing them that Harry Potter himself had arrived on his thirteenth birthday to claim his position as Heir of a Most Ancient and Noble house. In the process he had had the wills read and revealed himself as the Black Heir as well. There were some other inconsistencies in the wills but it was once again hushed by the Ministry and Dumbledore, yet there were rumours that spread about Dumbledore having reached past his jurisdiction and tampered with the documents. No proof ever came out but the rumours were toxic regardless, his influence had dropped to an all time low.

Much to everyone's surprise The-Boy-Who-Lived disappeared again, fueling conspiracy theories and arguments in every corner of Magical Britain. Owls sent after him returned only a few days after, their letters unopened. The Minister of Magic himself had apparently tried to contact him as well, but was summarily ignored, something that he desperately tried to keep quiet. After all, it didn't exactly look good for Fudge to be ignored by a thirteen-year-old.

Then suddenly a month ago, Potter sent a letter to the Daily Prophet, calmly informing them that he would in fact start his schooling at Hogwarts the coming September. The letter had been short and only verified by the Potter wax seal, yet it made the front page of the Daily Prophet, selling out in record time.

She stifled a snort as she watched Romilda Vane, another Gryffindor, adjust her breasts in an attempt to display more cleavage. They didn't even know what he looked like, yet she had already heard boasts about how more than one girl was going to bag him.  
Most of them seemed to think he was arriving because he finally wanted to be a part of their culture, yet Daphne couldn't help questioning that. She, unlike most of the half-bloods and muggleborns, knew that one needed to pass their OWLs in order to fully claim the voting rights of their Lordship. Participating in the exam was only allowed if one showed the necessary talent to take part, which meant completing a OWL year at a significant magical school. She doubted it was a coincidence that he decided to arrive at the school now out of all times.

"I kind of hope he looks like Goyle, just to see the reaction on their faces."

She shot a small smirk at Tracey, the girl's infectious grin making it hard for Daphne to keep her face neutral. She had an image to uphold after all, letting her mask drop was simply not an option in Slytherin. It hadn't been as important when she was younger, but once her body started changing and she realized she had inherited her mother's curves, her very existence in the house of snakes became dangerous. Daphne knew the views many of the boys had regarding women and she always felt the urge to scrub herself clean when they mentally undressed her. Her father's influence was nothing to scoff at, yet among the snakes he was just one powerful parent among many. Only the threat of her quick wand and the fact that she and Tracey walked everywhere together kept them at bay. Mostly.

She knew she had only gotten curvier during the summer and couldn't help the slight worry in the back of her mind over spending another full year in the snake pit, especially with the glances the boys in her year sent her. She sent a cold sneer right back at them, gaining a measure of satisfaction at the slight flinch she got as a reward.

A sudden hush settled over the Great Hall as the doors opened and McGonagall walked in, a row of small first years in tow. People barely paid attention to them though, as the last person in the line held all their eyes. Daphne drew a small breath of surprise as she laid eyes on him, from the pictures she had seen James and Lily Potter they were nowhere near that tall. Standing near the first years made his height seem all the more imposing.  
He had raven black hair neatly arranged around his face, framing high cheekbones and green eyes that seemed to glow with suppressed magic. His clothes were immaculate and he seemed utterly at ease, even with hundreds of eyes staring at him. A small confident smile spread on his lips and he nodded in greeting, like it was an every day occurrence to be stared at. She couldn't help feel a slight bit of admiration, she wasn't sure if she could stay as cool underneath such intense scrutiny. Studying his face she felt slightly surprised though, the pictures of his parents were nowhere near as.. aristocratic. She knew he was the Black Heir but she hadn't been aware of there being Black blood in his family, he looked every bit the pureblooded Lord.

"So much for that hope."

She nodded at Tracey's comment, even she had to admit that he was a very attractive young man. Yet something seemed to stick out in his demeanor, something that didn't seem to fit right. She kept studying his face until it dawned on her. His eyes. She knew those eyes because she wore similar ones herself, it was a mask. The more she stared the more obvious it became, underneath the smiling easy going profile something else lurked, something she couldn't identify. When his captivating eyes met hers she finally understood, a small shiver traveling down her back. Where as she hid her joy underneath an mask of ice, he seemed to hide his ice underneath a mask of charm. He quirked his lip at her wide eyes and sent her a small nod, as if he had understood exactly what she saw. She jerked her eyes away from his, feeling unnerved for some reason.

Looking at the rest of the students she realized no one else had caught what she did, light blushes adorning more than one girl as they giggled and stared at him. She felt that the wager Nott had proposed earlier on the train might actually have had more basis than they expected. He wanted to take bets about what house Potter would end up in, but no one took any interest as they all assumed he was going to be a Gryffindor. Glancing at the tall, dark and charming boy standing in the middle of the hall, two golden Heir rings on his left hand glinting in the candlelight, she was suddenly far from convinced he was a Gryffindor.

"Potter-Black, Harry James."

She was startled by McGonagall's voice, realizing she had already missed half of the sorting. Potter-Black huh? Claiming the name Black meant he intended to take that Lordship as well, wonder how the magical press felt about their Golden boy taking the head of one of the darkest houses in Britain. Watching him stroll towards the hat with a confident step, sending a grin at a blushing girl or two she swallowed, just how golden was he? He took the hat from McGonagall, his height towering over her and placed it over his head, not bothering to sit down. Barely a second later it spoke.

"Slytherin!"

She wanted to pretend like she was just as gobsmacked as everyone else, yet a small part of her had already been anticipating this. Returning the hat to a frozen McGonagall he bowed to the students and walked towards the table decorated with dark green. This prompted hesitant applause, she wasn't certain who was more hesitant, the snakes applauding their addition or the other houses applauding the new snake. Shock soon gave place to noise as hundreds of discussions erupted, people expressing disbelief over his placement. The only house that kept quiet was the Slytherin table, all eyes glued to the tall young man that calmly sat down next to Tracey, diagonally in front of her.

"Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you."

Tracey appeared startled, staring up into his face before offering her hand.

"Tracey Davis and I think we have established what your name is."

He just shot her a grin in return before kissing the back of her hand with the sort of grace you'd expect from a seasoned pureblood. Daphne wasn't blind to the sort of effect he had on her friend, she might try to appear aloof but the light tint of red on her cheeks gave her away. She almost audibly swallowed as his eyes turned towards her, this close she could practically feel the barely suppressed power coursing through him. The quiet intensity of his green gaze stole her breath away and it wasn't until he quirked his eyebrow with a small smile that she realized he was expecting her to introduce herself. She coughed delicately to hide her slip-up while she furiously occluded her mind to clear any expression from her face.

"Daphne Greengrass."

His eyes seemed to bore right through her as he repeated the greeting from earlier, his soft kiss sending tendrils of warm magic through her fingers. She managed to suppress the shiver than went through her at the action, yet the amused glint in his eyes made her feel like all her secrets were out in the open.

"Disgusting. A dirty half-blood in our house and slobbering over our classmates."

She recognized that voice, the smug high-pitched nasal tone of Pansy Parkinson. No doubt hoping to curry some favor with Malfoy by repeating things he might say. Yet looking at Potter he seemed utterly unconcerned as he calmly released her hand before turning to the new voice. No. Not utterly unconcerned, she had seen the flash in his eyes. He hid it expertly behind his calm facade, yet her words had stirred something.

"Humm, and who might you be?"

His tone was almost amused, a teasing smirk on his face as he studied Parkinson. Yet the intensity lurking behind those eyes only seemed stronger. Pansy was either blind to his eyes or truly believed herself so above him that she didn't care. Most likely a combination of both. The other Slytherins had covertly lowered their voices to hear the discussion, choosing to sit back and observe.

"Pansy Parkinson. Your superior."

Daphne watched as his lazy smile became even wider, almost predatory. It was no longer as charming as she thought earlier.

"Indeed? Parkinson you say."

He slowly poured some water into a goblet as he let his eyes roam over her body, blatantly ogling her.

"Your face is not much to write home about but you do have quite the nice body. With a bag over your head you wouldn't be a bad concubine."

Soft gasps of surprise greeted his words but none of them compared to the outraged face of Parkinson as he stared at him in disbelief.

"WHAT!?"

Daphne watched as he casually toyed with his goblet, no doubt deliberately using his left hand. The candlelight glinted off the two golden rings adorning his fingers, casting his face in an ominous light.

"Lord Parkinson," he started, still smiling that predatory grin at Pansy.

"After having seen your daughter at Hogwarts I wish to propose a concubine contract between your House and the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. Knowing how dear your daughter is to you I will naturally include a bride price that reflects this."

Sipping his goblet he conversationally continued.

"What do you think would be a good price Pansy? Perhaps two hundred thousand galleons would be okay?"

He seemed to mull over the sum as Parkinson's eyes widened in disbelief at the number. Daphne realized the point he made with the sum, he could easily afford it, both the houses of Potter and Black were filthy rich, yet Lord Parkinson would no doubt gladly accept any contract with such a bride price. The Parkinsons were wealthy, but they were nowhere near the point where they would turn down such offers.

"Of course I understand that Pansy does not yet know me, so I wish the contract to be drawn under the old laws with the Encouragement Clause included. As a Lord and father yourself you no doubt understand how fickle teenage girls can be at times. This would no doubt smooth over any issues."

Pansy looked nauseous and to be honest, Daphne couldn't blame her. The Encouragement Clause was a vile piece of law that allowed the groom to use any means he saw necessary to encourage the bride to fulfill her 'wifely duty'. Potions, spells, any form of brainwashing really, was completely legal.

Potter watched her rapidly paling face before he continued, that damnable grin still on his face.

"Of course once you are my concubine there will be no more need for you to attend classes. You will spend your days in my room and nights in my bed, a sex toy has no need of an education after all. The only lessons you'll need to learn I will have no issues teaching you. In fact, I don't think I'll allow you to go outside at all, I'd rather enjoy you while you are young and then send you away to some distant Black property when I grow tired of you. Perhaps I'll have one built somewhere in Siberia just for you."

Daphne swallowed as she watched the way Pansy shook, a bit of moisture gathering in her eyes. Potter was systematically destroying her future. Showing her how little her life meant to him and how easily he could crush it. It would be perfectly legal as well. The most terrifying aspect was how easily he could do it. Not by raising his wand, not by raising his voice, merely by writing a single piece of parchment.

"I'm s-sorry."

Her voice was quiet now. Meek. Shaking.

"I didn't quite catch that, what did you say?"

Potters tone hadn't shifted at all during his speech, it sounded like he was telling an amusing joke yet no one was laughing. Pansy swallowed before bowing her head, closing her eyes to hide the tears forming.

"I apologize for my insult Lord Potter-Black, I misspoke."

She seemed to be holding her breath as Potter casually studied her now subservient pose, absently sipping his water. He then chuckled humorously.

"Oh of course, apology accepted. What's a few jokes between students right?"

Parkinson practically deflated in relief before shutting herself off from everyone and nibbling at her food. Daphne saw the way her hands shook as she hid them in her lap. Shifting her blue eyes to Potter she studied him as he started eating the feast, seemingly enjoying the food without a care in the world. He had sent a message. This was no golden boy of Gryffindor. He wouldn't take insults sitting down. She was grateful for Parkinsons stupidity, giving her advance warning about what kind of man was sitting at their table.

Reaching for her spoon she was surprised to see her own hand shaking as well.


	2. Lemon Drops

**Chapter 2: Lemon Drops**

Albus Dumbledore glanced at the clock as his wrinkled fingers unwrapped a lemon drop with practiced ease. The boy that had been occupying much of his mind for the majority of the past decade should be arriving any minute. He glanced at the snoozing portraits decorating his office as he slipped the treat into his mouth, fairly certain most of them were simply faking sleep. They were no doubt as interested in the coming discussion as he was.

He still remembered that day seven years ago with the same clarity as if it had happened yesterday. Arabella Figg's frantic fire-call about how the boy had gone missing. At the time he had been certain it was merely a childish tantrum, certain that he would be found and returned home. After all, no Dark wizard could bypass the protection on the boy and kidnap him.

Yet hours turned to days and days turned to a week without any sign of the boy. His tracking and monitoring charms had for some reason failed completely, sputtering to a slow death in his office. Worse yet, a fire had engulfed the Dursley house, killing all occupants before he realized the seriousness of the matter. His trusted friends had scoured every corner of Surrey and the magical areas yet no trace could be found. The candy suddenly no longer tasted as sweet as he remembered having to walk into the Ministry and inform them he needed their help in locating him.

He grimaced softly. The corruption in the Ministry meant that only hours later the Daily Prophet found about the story. What followed was a practical witch hunt, with Fudge being smart enough to distance himself from all the responsibility, and consequently, all the blame. That only left the press with him to focus on. Senile, demented and foolish were some of the kinder words used when describing his decision to place the boy in a muggle family. He couldn't even defend his decision by mentioning the blood protection as it had faded within the week, leaving no trace it even existed in the first place.

That had baffled him, even with the boy disliking and distancing himself from the home there should still have been a familial link present, yet everything had disappeared. Even with the Dursleys dead and the fire burning down the house the magic should have lingered with the property for some time. Yet, much to his dismay, it seemed that as far as magic was concerned Harry Potter was now practically a stranger to the Dursleys.

Five long years he lived in doubt, was the boy dead or alive? His order search parties were powerless and not even the Ministry could find any trace of him. Was Harry Potter truly who the prophecy spoke of? If not him, then who? Neville? He bit down on the hard candy in disappointment, Neville Longbottom had been a far cry from what he might have expected when he arrived at Hogwarts. He had been forced to dismiss him as a candidate from the start, the meek Gryffindor simply did not fit the bill.

He didn't even know if he should smile or frown when during a Wizengamot meeting in August 1993, a young attorney from Clifford and Dale's law firm stepped into the chamber and announced that one Harry James Potter was thirteen years old and had thus claimed his Potter Lordship, removing his guardianship and voting rights from one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He was beyond happy that the boy was still alive and connected to the wizarding world, yet the removal of the vote stung.

The media frenzy that had followed had been legendary, yet the boy refused to answer any comments, staying hidden from the masses. Albus didn't even know if he was in the country or not. Of course, with no Boy-Who-Lived to interview the press had turned to their favorite habit as of late, haranguing him. When rumors spread about what he had done to the Potter will he almost had to give up his seat in the Wizengamot, yet he barely managed to bury the official story. He swallowed the remains of the lemon drop with a hint of distaste, the whole thing with Harry Potter had backfired on him spectacularly.

His chair briefly buzzed, snapping him back to the present. That was the monitoring charm on the gargoyle outside his office, meaning the boy had arrived. He took a sip of water to clear his throat and clasped his hands in front of him, giving the outward appearance of being perfectly at ease before he spoke up.

"Come in."

He enjoyed inviting people to his office before they knocked, added a certain mystique to his character. Especially effective against the few students that had done something grievous enough to warrant a trip to his office.

The boy opened the door and stepped in, seeming even taller in person than in the hall. Albus was having a hard time thinking about his as a boy instead of a young man. His magical presence, the way he held himself and how tall he was, made it hard to simply consider him a fifteen-year-old boy.

"Good evening Headmaster."

The voice was surprisingly deep, not the uncertain voice of a teenager going through puberty, but rather one confident in his own speech.

"Good evening Harry, please have a seat."

He indicated the seat in front of his table as he smiled genially. He knew he was a very famous wizard, thus referring to students with their first name seemed to throw them off slightly and made him seem more approachable. The boy showed no surprise at the familiar greeting though.

Finally being able to see him close up he was surprised how little of James was visible in his face. He would have almost penned him for a pureblooded Black if it wasn't for the startling green eyes staring right back at him. That was definitively all Lily. He briefly entertained the idea of Black having had an affair with Lily before discarding it, it didn't fit the type. Lily would never betray James and neither would Sirius. He winced slightly at that train of thought, he should have known about Black's innocence sooner.

His eyes jumped up to his familiar lightning bolt scar and he had to suppress a frown. The inflamed red wound that had simply refused to properly heal, now simply looked like any other scar. No irritation, merely a small sliver of discolored skin. In fact it looked like it was fading further into his skin. That just raised more questions than it answered.

Glancing at Fawkes he was once again confused, a feeling he was learning to strongly dislike. The phoenix stared at Harry but made no moves. Neither to greet him or to attack him, merely studying him. The bird might just be moody but it was uncommon for the bird to not greet the students visiting his office.

His eyes shifted back to the boy, looking at him calmly while waiting for him to speak up, it was a common tactic for controlling the discussion. It usually did not take long for students to crack under the silence of the office, being looked at by a man more than a hundred years their senior. The slight elevation of his chair helped him look down on anyone sitting before him, adding to the intimidating air.

Yet seconds soon became minutes and his bored half-lidded green eyes merely stared right back at him, showing no sign at being bothered by the silence. His posture was straight and confident, yet he seemed to practically lounge in the chair, utterly at ease. Realizing they could sit here in silence all evening Albus spoke up.

"How have you been enjoying Hogwarts so far?"

"It has been good."

He looked at him for a minute, hoping for more. When nothing came he stifled a sigh and continued.

"You have been quite the hot topic in the press these past few years."

"Indeed."

Albus grit his teeth, he was clearly not going to get anything out of him if he didn't ask directly.

"I was very surprised when you disappeared from Privet Drive, where did you go?"

"Several places."

"Why did you leave?"

"Why don't you ask them?"

"The Dursleys are dead, they died in a fire that consumed the entire house shortly after you left."

"Oh. Shame."

Albus studied his eyes, the boy was obviously not surprised that his muggle guardians were dead. His response was also delivered in exactly the same tone of voice as his other answers, indicating little sorrow or care for that matter. He was certain the boy was hiding things. Seven long years with absolutely no information was making Albus irritated. He needed to know if the prophecy truly spoke of Harry Potter. Most importantly of all, he needed to know where Harry's loyalties lie. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he allowed a small almost imperceptible mental probe to deftly slip into his green eyes, hoping to gain answers to the questions that had bothered him for so long.

He flinched as his probe ran right into one of the most solid defenses he had ever seen, being swiftly repelled and leaving him with a burning headache. He knew from experience he would suffer from a migraine for days after this. Occlumency! How? He was far too young to be this proficient in the skill. He noticed the boy's mouth had curved into an amused smirk, he clearly knew exactly what just happened. This was disastrous, the boy's trust in him could take serious hit from this. Albus spoke quickly, hoping to salvage the situation.

"Apologies, old habit."

Harry's smirk became even wider and Albus saw the amusement in his emerald eyes.

"Habit?"

Albus wanted to bite his tongue, he had made the cardinal mistake of speaking while surprised. Foolish. Should have gathered his thoughts yet his desperation just shot him in the leg.

"I was under the impression Legilimency on students was quite forbidden."

Using his Occlumency to smooth his face he calmly reached for a lemon drop, trying to formulate an answer.

"There are times when student welfare takes priority and the Headmaster must do what is necessary for the safety of all."

"And this was such a time?"

Albus didn't fail to notice the faint humor in his tone, clearly not finding his argument very believable.

"Your scar appears to have healed quite well."

Harry quirked an eyebrow in response, seeming amused at the sudden change of topic.

"Isn't that what scars are supposed to do?"

"Magical scars tend to linger for a long time."

"Fifteen years is quite a long time."

Albus nodded in acceptance at that, yet he was itching to take out his wand and cast diagnostic spells at the boy. There was no way he could do that without explaining himself though. The boy would clearly intelligent, not to mention probably distrustful of him after the Legilimency debacle. He had his suspicions of what the scar might be, the way the foreign magic had seemed to linger around it was distressing. Yet if his suspicions had been correct it should not have healed over the way it did. That is unless whatever was in the scar no longer resided there. If it was no longer in the scar, then where had it gone? He shuddered briefly, that train of thought lead him to several terrifying conclusions. Yet all of them relied on his hunch being correct, something he no longer had absolute faith in.

One thing was however certain, he would need to keep a close eye on the boy. Powerful, tall, charming, cunning and a Slytherin. Orphaned from a young age. Dead muggle relatives. Far too many parallels to Tom Riddle for his liking.

"I was rather surprised when I needed to send the goblins to retrieve my father's cloak from you."

The unexpected comment broke him out of his thoughts.

"I was merely holding it for you in safekeeping until you could start at Hogwarts."

"Gringotts was not safe enough?"

The amused smile was there again.

"There were certain aspects of the cloak that needed to be studied."

"And you couldn't ask me for permission to borrow it? That sounds quite a lot like stealing Headmaster."

Albus cringed slightly at that. He really had no viable explanation for the boy at the moment, he was too uncertain about his personality to reveal the truth about the Hallows.

"Ah unfortunately no, I did not wish to bother you at your relatives."

His lazy smile was still there but something flashed through his eyes as he spoke.

"Ah, yes. They were not big fans of magic."

It was almost too quick for Albus to catch but he knew it was important. Whatever emotion Harry had felt had been strong enough to bypass his Occlumency. He would need to study the memory in his Pensieve.

"That is unfortunate."

Harry just nodded in response, leaving Albus to try and puzzle out what he saw. It had however been too brief and the boy was slipping back into his calm lounging state, no doubt having full control over his Occlumency again.

"I must admit I was rather surprised to see you sorted into Slytherin."

"Oh, why is that?"

"Your parents were both Gryffindors."

"I have never met my parents."

Albus winced, trying to influence the boy through his parents seemed like a dead end. Glancing at the clock he decided it was time to end this disastrous meeting before it got further out of hand. Smiling genially he motioned towards the clock.

"Oh dear, looks like I have taken quite a bit of your time, yet there is so much more I want to talk about. Perhaps we could meet another day to continue our conversation?"

Harry smirked at him as he stood up.

"Certainly Headmaster, perhaps next time we'll get more actual talking done. Good-bye."

Albus understood his words for what they were, a jab at his attempted intimidation at the start of the meeting. He had clearly seen through it from the start.

As he watched him leave he couldn't help frowning, the boy was nothing like what he expected. Worse yet, he had almost no power or influence over him. The boy obviously had no trust in him and this meeting had done little to alleviate that issue. Threatening him with things like detention and expulsion could backfire greatly if he merely accepted it and mentioned it to the press. A Gryffindor might have argued loudly against him, but this boy was certainly no such thing. Albus had little doubt Harry would gladly use the press to his advantage if push came to shove. After the debacle with his muggle guardians he had little doubt the Board of Governors would have him out of the castle by the next day if he made The-Boy-Who-Lived take his OWL year in France.

He spat out his lemon drop with a frown, for the first time in years the candy tasted stale.


	3. The difference between boys and men

**Chapter 3: The difference between boys and men**

"Your dad is nothing but a slimy dark wizard just like you!"

Hermione Granger sighed in exasperation as she watched Ron Weasley butt heads with the Slytherins again. It really was quite obnoxious to watch his prejudice fuel his anger. Honestly, a child psychologist would have a field day studying the boy. She flicked her brown hair behind her ear as she watched Malfoy take great pleasure voicing his usual taunts. One would think Weasley would have grown immune to the constant insults about poverty and status, yet he still seemed just as quick to anger to the very same words they had been hearing for the past five years. She could understand his dislike for the blond boy, he truly represented everything that was wrong with the wizarding world, but she didn't understand why he always rose up to the bait. Lack of intelligence she presumed.

She genuinely wondered if he would even pass his OWL year, he seemed as lazy as he was thick. He even had the gall to attempt to foist his homework on her after spending the first couple of months in the school bullying her. Something that might have still been going on if it hadn't been for the serious injury she had received from the troll in their first year. That brought a small smile to her face, Professor McGonagall might have ignore her bullying at the start, but when she was actually injured the woman had been a storm of anger. She was also smart enough to inform Weasley's mother about what had happened. Hermione wasn't entirely sure what had been said, but she had seen the redheaded matriarch drag Ron out of the Gryffindor tower and ever since then she had been left blissfully in peace.

Of course she was rather surprised when Weasley actually became angry as she turned his 'offer' to do his work for him, like he expected someone to mother him and take care of his duties for him. Apparently that someone was her. An inferiority complex combined with the expectation that the world owed him something. Charming.

She shifted her eyes to Malfoy and sighed again. Little wonder those two always butted heads, Malfoy's narcissism was just as obvious as Weasley's insecurity. Flicking her wand to display the time she had to suppress her annoyance, it was still another ten minutes until Professor McGonagall arrived for their transfiguration lesson. Plenty of time for those two idiots to get in a fight then.

She briefly entertained the idea of stepping in and stopping them, but quickly dismissed the idea. The two of them would just gang up on her instead, they seemed to hold an unreasonable dislike for her. She was pretty sure she knew why as well. Ron considered it unfair that she excelled at almost all subjects, jealous of her success. Of course he blatantly ignored all the hard work she put in, apparently hoping to reach her level by lazing around in the common room and bemoaning his bad luck. Malfoy on the other hand disliked her because she went right against everything the boy had been taught. It was rather hard to call her a 'stupid talentless mudblood' when she surpassed him in all academics. That brought a brief smirk to her face, their jealousy was in a way recognition of her prowess.

"Everyone knows that the Slytherins are nothing but dark wizards!"

She rolled her eyes and barely managed to curb the impulse to palm her face. What a great way to earn the ire of an entire Hogwarts house Weasley. Malfoy at least had the common sense to aim his insults at Weasley alone, rather than bring a unified front of Gryffindors against him. Looking at the other students clad in green she wasn't surprised to see them all glaring daggers at the ginger boy. They had been spectators just like her, yet were being insulted.

Not for the first did she regret convincing the hat that she should be sorted in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. Her infatuation and awe with the story of the Headmaster had driven her to the house of red and gold. She had foolishly expected the magical world to be vastly different from the muggle one, yet magic did little to change how teenagers behaved. They could be just as cruel in both worlds. Finding out that the esteemed Headmaster wasn't exactly considered as amazing as she thought had only rubbed salt in the wound. His public image had suffered some rather heavy blows that were not mentioned in any of the books she had read before arriving at the school.

"Oh? All of them indeed?"

She looked up in surprise at the sound of the deep voice, desperately trying to prevent her blush from manifesting. Merlin, she was acting like Ginny. She however couldn't resist letting her eyes roam over the newcomer, taking in the usual pristine state of his clothes. Harry Potter. Tall, dark and strong, with eyes that seemed to steal her breath away. She mentally groaned, even her thoughts were starting to sound like trashy summer novels.

Weasley looked at him in surprise and even Malfoy quietened. She didn't really understand how it happened, yet whenever Potter spoke people seemed to just listen. He didn't shout or demand attention, he merely spoke and expected people to listen. And they did. The academical side of her couldn't help wondering if there was some sort of magic involved. It honestly wouldn't surprise her if there was. She, like many others, had foolishly believed in the stereotypes surrounding The-Boy-Who-Lived, expecting a heroic and gallant Gryffindor. She had also expected arrogance and probable stupidity, especially when he had sat next to her in the Arithmancy OWL class.

She was certain he only chose his seat because he had heard she was the best at the subject, hoping to mooch of her hard work since he hadn't attended the two earlier years. When Professor Vector handed out the start of the year quiz she was mentally counting the minutes until he would crack and ask her for help. Yet when he finally moved, only minutes later, it was simply to walk up to the desk to hand in the paper. Her brown eyes hadn't been the only ones to widen in disbelief, she was barely a third through the paper and he was apparently done. Professor Vector's smile as she read through his answers told her all she needed to know about his talent in the field.

It hadn't been a fluke either, every single class she had had with the boy after that had been almost borderline ridiculous. Hermione Granger was used to being the best at what she did, but when Harry Potter arrived it wasn't even a competition. He was so far ahead of her it couldn't even be considered a competition. In retrospect she realized how foolish it was to expect things of a person they had never met based on rumors, it wasn't like she was the only one who had her expectations crushed.

Well, not all of them. He was certainly living up the hype about his magical prowess. His apparent intelligence had however caught her by complete surprise. This had bothered her greatly and driven her to push herself even further, hoping to beat him in at least one of the classes. She even developed a dislike for him because he had taken her place, beating her in the one thing she excelled at. Yet there had been no arrogance, no taunting or mocking. In fact when she had problems understanding one of the Ancient Runes diagrams he had been the first to help her out.

That was when she stopped being angry at him simply for being better and just looked at him like another new student. Much to her dismay she realized she was incredibly attracted to him. It had probably been there for a while, masked by her distaste of him usurping her in every class. Even now looking at in hallway it was almost impossible to compare him to Malfoy or Weasley. They were immature brats. He was something else entirely. Standing casually right in front of them yet seeming to exude an air of composure. His eyes briefly shifted to hers and he gave her a small smile, making her curse her hormones as she felt heat blossom on her cheeks.

"What?"

"I asked if you truly implied that all Slytherins were dark wizards Ronald?"

"Uh, yes!"

Potter stopped a few steps away from Weasley, seeming to study him. The contrast they made almost made her chuckle, it looked like an adult scolding a child.

"Humm, that is interesting. Are you perhaps trying to tell us something?"

Weasley seemed utterly confused. To be fair she didn't understand where he was going with this either. Before Weasley could speak he continued.

"After all, Euphemia Amaryllis Prewett was quite the talented Slytherin. Made prefect I believe."

Seeing Weasley's confusion he elaborated.

"She was the mother of one Molly Weasley, formerly Prewett. I believe you know her at least, she is your mother after all."

Weasley looked like someone had punched him in the gut. She glanced at Potter in surprise, it wasn't the first time he had casually mentioned some random fact regarding someone's lineage. He seemed to have a practically inexhaustible supply of knowledge when it came to the old families. He also wielded that knowledge to devastating effect in arguments.

"Considering your adamant shouts about all Slytherin students being dark wizards I can't help but think you are trying to tell us something. Perhaps you wish to admit you come from a dark family? Or maybe you are trying to intimidate us with your dark relatives? Or are you perhaps hoping to fit in with these dark wizards in Slytherin?"

She saw a smirk tug at his lips as he spoke, making it hard for her to suppress her own smile. Weasley was looking at him like a pureblood staring at a toaster. The green-clad students behind Potter had no such constraints, smirking quite openly as they watched him sputter. Well with the exception of Malfoy, he just seemed constipated and judging by the ways his eyes darted back and forth he seemed undecided on which of the two he wanted to insult more. Another case of stupid stubbornness, she had only witnessed a few of the arguments between Malfoy and Potter, yet the pattern had been rather obvious. Potter outmaneuvered and cornered him in every discussion, usually leaving him looking like an angry child throwing a tantrum. The blond boy clearly had no experience of being verbally challenged. Or well, challenged in any way. Truly a case of someone being born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Weasley's angry shout cut short her musings.

"You lie!"

Ah, denial. Guess she should have expected that. Looking at the way Potter kept fighting his smirk she was pretty sure he had in fact been expecting it.

"Oh no, that would be deplorable. In fact.."

He casually reached into a pocket inside his robe, his hand easily slipping past the elbow as he dug around. She looked at the spectacle with interest, to be able to cast such a proficient Undetectable Extension Charm on such a small object was rather impressive. Especially for someone who had yet to write their OWLs.

"Ah, here."

The slim dark green book he dug out quite clearly said Slytherin Alumni on it as he displayed it both to Weasley and the crowd. She wondered where he had gotten that book from, as far as she knew such books didn't exist in the Hogwarts Library. Also, what were the odds that he just happened to be lugging it around?

"Here she is."

She jolted out of her thoughts as Potter quite clearly showed the picture of a young witch in Slytherin robes with the Prewett name written underneath. Weasley stared at the picture in disbelief and she could practically hear his mind whirring.

Potter closed the book with a grin and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Perhaps one shouldn't make blanket statements like the one you made eh, Ronald? To judge the entire house based on the actions of an individual is quite foolish. After all, how would you like it if people judged the House of Gryffindor based on the actions of Peter Pettigrew?"

Weasley seemed to flinch and she spotted quite a few twitches among the members of her house. Pettigrew had been killed at the school two years ago. More than one Gryffindor had been disgusted when they heard the extent of his crimes, especially after learning what house he hailed from.

"If all Gryffindors are not noble and brave, then perhaps it isn't such a stretch to assume that not all Slytherins are evil dark wizards?"

He had a small smile tugging at his lips as he spoke, the almost condescending tone clearly aimed at Weasley while his eyes roamed over the spectators.

She looked at the way Potter studied the crowd, wondering exactly what his goal was. Her first thought had been that he wanted to change how people thought about Slytherins, yet the more she observed him, the more unlikely she found that goal. He never tried to engage the people of his house to take part, it was always only him speaking and claiming the attention. If she didn't know better she could've sworn he was just trying to improve his reputation and social standing. Like he was trying to subtly show people that he wasn't what they thought a Slytherin should be, regardless of his house colors. She thought that was ridiculous, Harry Potter was everything she considered a cunning snake to be. Yet she could see the way his actions had changed the way people thought about him. Not what they thought about Slytherins in general, but the way they had gradually warmed up to him personally.

His efforts struck her as odd, as he already was quite popular, why would he be working so hard for even more recognition? Would he even care about the Slytherin reputation if he hadn't been placed in that house?

His emerald eyes suddenly made contact with hers and he sent her a little grin, making her thoughts scramble as she once again fought a blush. When Professor McGonagall arrived she couldn't even remember why she had been so unreasonably suspicious of him.


	4. Cursed Eyes

**Chapter 4: Cursed Eyes**

He stopped before the familiar door and took a moment to compose himself, sucking in a deep breath to calm his churning mind. This time he would catch the little bastard in the act. Mentally steeling his resolve he wrenched the door open before marching into the Potions classroom, a familiar sneer plastered on his face as he took in the students. His eyes roamed over the various Slytherins and Gryffindors before settling on the one person that seemed to catch his attention every time. He felt rage bubbling in him and quickly reinforced his Occlumency to smoothen his face.

That accursed boy did not deserve to have those eyes. He was like his past made into flesh, arriving at Hogwarts simply to haunt him. The son of Potter, looking like Black yet wearing those cursed eyes that had last looked at him with sorrow and disappointment. Lily's eyes. Severus Snape clenched his fists and averted his gaze, why did the boy have to end up in his House of all places. He had almost choked on his pumpkin juice when the hat had called out Slytherin. At first he was certain he was merely hearing things, yet the oppressive silence of the Great Hall had convinced him otherwise. He had watched with trepidation as the arrogant boy sauntered over to his house. His table. He had desperately hoped it was a terrible nightmare, yet when he handed out the schedules the next day, those very same green eyes met his without flinching.

Rarely had he felt as frustrated as he had been with the boy. He wished he could remove house points from him to teach him a lesson, yet it went against all his principles to remove them from Slytherin. His house got enough discrimination as it was, he would never add to that. His jabs and demeaning comments had seemingly slipped off the boy's back like drops of water over a weather displacement ward. All he got in return was infuriating politeness and what looked like an identical copy of Black's smirk. Like his entire presence was mere entertainment.

He desperately wanted to send to boy to detention for the rest of the year to teach him some manners, but Albus had adamantly forbidden it. His incessant jabbering about not punishing the boy without cause and ample proof proved to be a constant headache. Apparently something had happened during the meeting between the old man and the boy, something that had deeply shaken the aged Headmaster. Snape mentally snorted at that, no doubt Albus had been shocked to realize the boy was a practical copy of his pathetic father. He really shouldn't have been surprised that Albus would coddle the boy, he had given his father and his friends never-ending special treatment, that he would continue the tradition was expected.

Looking back at Potter he had to suppress a snarl. The boy was actually smirking at him. As if he knew exactly what he was thinking about. Absurd, he knew why the boy was smirking. He was arrogant just like his father, thinking the world owed him something. The Potter ego was after all legendary, something he could personally attest to. No surprise the son was exactly like his father. He was surprised he hadn't gotten any reports of Potter harassing other students, only a matter of time he assumed.

He flicked his wand at the board, displaying the recipe for the Draught of Peace.

"The instructions are on the board, get to work."

His black eyes watched them scurry for the ingredients. Some were nervous and skittish under his eyes, others cool and calm. Potter was utterly relaxed as usual, preferring to stare at him like he did during every class. That damnable smirk still on his face while Lily's eyes bore into his. Arrogant boy. Yet to Snape's surprise he seemed to brew all potions before the rest of the class every single time. He was convinced the boy was cheating, it was something he expected from the spawn of Potter. He refused to believe he could have inherited any of brewing talent Lily possessed. There was far too much Potter and Black in him.

"What are you waiting for Potter, get to work!"

His damnable grin seemed to widen a bit before he bowed his head, the entire action seeming mocking in its politeness.

"Of course Professor."

Potter stepped over to the cabinet and picked his ingredients without any hesitation, not even bothering to glance at the recipe written on the board. All other students would double-check that they made no mistakes, but not him. His arrogance truly knew no bounds.

Albus wanted him to keep a sharp eye out for that boy. He couldn't understand why, whatever meager talent he might have displayed in his other classes meant little to him. He was just a copy of his narcissistic father. He was oh so tempted to use Legilimency on the boy, but Albus had warned him that he possessed very strong shields. Snape snorted at the thought. Potter being that talented in the incredibly difficult art of Occlumency was laughable. More than likely that Albus used his usual featherlight probe and the boy's flimsy shields managed to deflect it. He always had a soft spot for the boy, it was hardly unexpected that he would embellish his talents.

The staff meetings had turned to a nightmare with the addition of Potter's spawn. All his colleagues ever seemed to want to talk about was the so called 'prodigious talent' of the boy. He mentally scoffed, how typical of a Potter to brag about his lackluster achievements, no doubt exaggerating his skill.

He stared with dismay as Potter deftly diced his ingredients and started the potion, already passing by the other students who had fetched their ingredients before him. How? Only someone with years of experience in the art of brewing could simply skip stages and speed up the potion to that degree. Not to mention the natural talent it would require. No Potter had ever been talented at Potions, that was his forte, his specialty. James Potter's smirking face flashed through his mind as the bastard told him he would be marrying Lily. His damn spawn was trying to upstage him even now. In his class, doing his art. Foul, filthy cheater.

"I will find out how you are cheating and I will have you expelled."

The boy looked up from his potion, still wearing that small amused grin, like the entire situation was simply a grand joke to him.

"Who are you talking to Professor?"

He snarled.

"You know who I am talking to, it is not possible for someone who hasn't even sat his OWLs to skip the dicing of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage simply by increasing the acidity of the potion. That requires years of experience."

"Oh. Well I never even considered that, I simply mixed things together as I thought they would fit."

The voice sounded teasingly innocent, yet the humor in Lily's eyes shone light on his true intentions. He was mocking him. Mocking his art. Potter paused for a bit before raising his eyebrows.

"After all it's not like Potions is that difficult, it kind of reminds me of muggle cooking to be honest. I'll have you know I'm quite the talented chef."

Snape felt his rage bubble underneath his Occlumency, this little shit dared to insult his profession. The smirk on his face told him exactly what he needed to know, he was deliberately goading him. The realization barely smoothed his anger and he let a little vicious grin spread on his own face. Two could play that game.

"Ah, it's a shame you spent so much time gallivanting with the muggles."

He quirked an eyebrow at the comment and Snape gladly elaborated.

"You might have been able to save your godfather if you had chosen to attend school like everyone else."

He ignored the gasps of the other students while studying Potter. His face still held amusement but he saw something pass through his eyes, which was all the confirmation Snape needed about his comment getting to him. A small sense of glee erupted in his chest, taking vengeance on Potter through his spawn was rather enjoyable.

"It was only a few hundred meters from here that he died. Poor Sirius Black, having finally caught and killed Peter Pettigrew, only to be swarmed by hundreds of Dementors. He never even got to see his darling godson, having spent over a decade in prison while being wholly innocent of all crimes."

He practically purred out the last sentence.

Snape remembered the scandal that had followed when they found Pettigrew's body, Sirius Black was cleared of all crimes and the Daily Prophet had a field day insulting the Ministry when his lack of trial came to light. It was also a night where he drunk himself into a stupor, two of his childhood demons dead, it was definitively an occasion to celebrate. Of course Albus hadn't been too pleased when it came to light that he had been the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot during Black's incarceration. The press really had a bone to pick with the old man.

Studying Potter he was disappointed to see how cool the boy still seemed. Not a twitch on his face showed that he had been affected by the words. Perhaps the boy did have some meager talent in Occlumency after all. Although it was likely that it was just his callous arrogance that let him ignore the demise of someone so close to his family. Just like his father would pretend that his bullying was just a series of 'pranks'.

"That was a fascinating story Professor."

He grit his teeth at the demeaning tone of his voice. It was degrading, it sounded like an adult placating a child. What was even more aggravating was that Potter had not paused from his potion-making at all, doing it with casual ease while keeping his eyes mostly locked on him. He was even playing with the ingredients in his hands, lobbing them back and forth like he was simply cooking an elaborate stew. The color of the potion indicated that it was correctly made as well, almost nearing completion. He bit his tongue to keep from shouting at the blatant cheating. Looking at the spectators their little argument had attracted he snarled.

"Why are you staring at me, get back to work!"

The other students hurriedly complied with his order while Potter just looked at him, the corner of his mouth still curved in a small smirk. A challenging light came into his eyes as he spoke.

"But of course Professor Sniv-, Snape."

He felt the blood drain from his face as he heard the words. Potter's correction was fast enough that no one else paid attention to it, but Snape had no doubts about what he said. Rage quickly overcame his shock as he looked at Potter's smirking face, that had been no accident, he had said it on purpose. The cursed bastard knew! He did not know how, but he knew about his Hogwarts years! Snivellus. That hated word his father used to taunt him with.

Staring into Lily's eyes he let his fury bubble over. Unlike Albus he had no intention of being gentle or careful here. His rage formed into a mental probe, years of practice honed it into a sharp long lance. He felt a twinge of protest in his magic, no doubt that damnable life-debt acting up again. He ignored it with practiced ease, this wouldn't kill the boy, perhaps merely cripple him a bit. Teach him some humility. His emotion and magic fueled the probe as he sent it towards those haunting emerald eyes. Even seasoned Aurors would buckle under such an assault, there was no finesse here, only brute force. Raw hatred and magic. He knew it would cause the boy untold amounts of pain as it scrambled his mind, the knowledge only serving to bring him delighted pleasure.

His brief moment of triumph shattered like a dropped mirror. Sheer and utter agony overtook his senses, crushing suffocating pain engulfed his mind as his probe smashed against Potter's shields like a drop of rain against the castle walls. He had time to experience a second of disbelief before he fell to his knees, a searing pain spreading through his head. He squeezed his temples in desperation as it felt like a molten bar of lead had been shoved into his mind, burning and squeezing at the same time. It felt like pure fire had engulfed his head, twisting and tearing at his very being. His eyes rolled in his sockets and he couldn't even focus on his surroundings as he violently retched over the floor, dirtying his hands and robes in sick. His sense of balance seemed gone, his arms couldn't support his weight. He heard a soft squishing sound and briefly realized that it was the sound of him collapsing into a pool of his own vomit.

The last thing he saw, before blessed darkness claimed him, was Potter staring right into his eyes, the small grin having been replaced by a vicious smirk.


	5. The incredible Boy-Who-Lived

**A/N: In case the warning in the description wasn't enough, here's another one. This chapter contains lemons.**

**Chapter 5: The incredible Boy-Who-Lived**

Ginny Weasley trudged up the long narrow stairs, her long red hair trailing behind her as she headed towards the seventh floor. She squeezed the small piece of parchment in her hand. A note that he had slipped her after lunch, asking her to meet her at the usual spot one hour before dinner.

It never ceased to amaze her how incredible Harry Potter truly was. She hadn't even noticed him, neither had anyone else near her, yet she suddenly felt the rough note slip into her hand. He somehow seemed capable of finding her anywhere in the castle and contacting her while undetected. She smiled, it was almost like he was invisible at times. The Boy-Who-Lived indeed.

She frowned briefly, the note didn't exactly ask her, it was written more like a command. But she shrugged it off, she knew he was in reality just asking her. He was no doubt just desperate to see her again and it had bled over into his writing. That thought made her smile happily, the Boy-Who-Lived wanted to meet her badly enough to skip out on his usually impeccable manners. Ginny blushed when she reached the seventh floor and walked down the familiar corridor, she did know why he wanted to meet her. It was after all hardly the first time they were meeting in secret.

The first time he had stopped her and pulled her into an alcove, his mesmerizing emerald eyes boring into hers she felt like someone had stolen her breath away. She was embarrassed when he told her that he had noticed her stares, she thought she had been somewhat covert about it. Yet when he leaned down to kiss her she was ecstatic, all her childhood dreams were blossoming in front of her eyes. His hands had wandered all over her back, even caressing her hips and bum, but she was too caught up in the fantastic kiss to care. When he licked her lips she gasped in surprise, only to moan in pleasure as he seized the opportunity and slipped his tongue into her mouth, practically plundering her with ferocity. Who would have thought he was just as infatuated with her as she was with him.

Ginny frowned over the fact that she couldn't brag about their relationship to the rest of the school. Harry had been adamant that they keep it a secret, citing various reasons that all made sense. Her brother, the fact that he was a Slytherin and also the fact that he had some dangerous enemies. She smiled at that, he was so considerate, going through all that effort just to protect her.

Their meetings had increased after that, leaving her flustered and bothered every single time. Yet when she felt his smooth hand slip into the front of her panties she had groaned in pleasure before stiffening in slight fear. Her mother always said that proper ladies wait until they are married before giving up their virginity. She had told him she wanted to save herself until they were married. He had frowned at that, not that she could blame him, he obviously wanted her as much as she wanted him. Yet after staring into her eyes for a while he had smiled and nodded, making her exhale in relief. She had been worried he would reject her, but after his penetrating stare he had accepted.

He kissed her again before slipping his hand back in, tickling the slight patch of hair she had down there. At her questioning look he merely smiled and told her there were all kinds of things they could do while still allowing her to remain a proper lady. His use of words had surprised her, that was the same thing her mother used to say. Ginny's hesitation had melted away when she realized he had also been taught about proper ladies and apparently knew far more than she did. The fact that his smooth hand made her feel things she had never felt before didn't hurt either, his nimble fingers dancing inside her panties as he plundered her mouth, making her gasp and groan into his body.

Ginny was surprised she when noticed the usual door in front of her, she had been so caught up in her memories that she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. Her blush practically covered her from head to toe and she felt the familiar itch in her groin, making her feel like one of those scarlet women her mother had warned her about. Harry had however convinced her it was perfectly normal, as long as she had retained her virginity before marriage she would always be a proper lady. That thought made her smile, he always taught her so much.

She hesitantly reached for the door, feeling a tingle of magic dance over her skin as she touched the door. Harry's magic. He said he always warded the room to protect her privacy, didn't want anyone thinking less of her. She smiled at that, he truly was the most incredible boyfriend. Opening the door she slipped in, spotting the boy of her dreams sitting in a comfortable chair reading through some sort of dusty tome. She glanced at the huge bed next to him before focusing on her prince instead. When he noticed the door opening he eased the tome into his pocket, the large book disappearing into an impossibly small space, before turning to face her with his usual charming grin.

"Hey Ginny, you made it."

"Y-yeah."

She mentally cursed, his grin always made her feel weak in the knees. He briskly closed the distance, gently but firmly pushing her against the wall as he devoured her mouth. She groaned in delight, his strong hands kneading her bum as he pressed up against her body. She briefly realized that this was what they did every single time they met, not really talking or engaging in any other activities, before the feeling of pleasure scrambled her thoughts. He ended the kiss, but didn't release her, letting her feel the hardness that was now pressing against her stomach. That always made her happy, that she, Ginny Weasley from Ottery St. Catchpole, made the internationally famous Boy-Who-Lived so excited about her.

"I've missed you, have you missed me too?"

She nodded with a dazed smile, too out of breath to properly answer. He grinned as he looked into her eyes.

"Will you show me how much you have missed me?"

Ginny flushed slightly but nodded again. She knew what he wanted, it wasn't the first time. He backed off slightly, his wand appearing in his hand as he conjured a small pillow between their feet, before disappearing back up his sleeve again. She couldn't help admire how talented he was at magic and how considerate he was about her comfort. His hands pushing down on her shoulders made her snap out of her admiration and she lowered her knees to the pillow, her face now parallel to the obvious bulge in his robes.

She parted his robes with some hesitance, just because she had done it a few times didn't mean it was any less embarrassing for her. He felt hot and hard in her hand and she couldn't help studying him as her fingers touched him all over. Of course it wasn't the first she had seen that part of a boy, growing up with six brothers in a small home it was inevitable that she would catch glimpses of things she wasn't supposed to see. But seeing and touching were vastly different, as was tasting. She felt his hands tangle in her long hair before guiding her head towards where he clearly wanted it. A brief flash of annoyance flittered through her mind but she buried it, instead replacing it with happiness that he was so impatient to feel her.

Wetting her lips she parted them around him, allowing him to fill her mouth before gently sucking and using her tongue the way he had asked her to. A small sound of pleasure from above sent a surge of pride through her, she was making The-Boy-Who-Lived groan. How many girls wouldn't want to be in her position right now. She mentally laughed when she thought about Lavender. The girl had actually claimed she had done the very same thing to Harry multiple times in broom closets. Ginny scoffed at the thought, like her Harry would do something like that, he was a hero. Clearly the girl was lying for attention. Not many people had believed Lavender, she did have a reputation after all.

She gagged slightly as she felt him speed up, pressing uncomfortably against her throat with each move. His hands allowed her no space to maneuever and she could only resign herself to the action. She had gotten angry at first but Harry had explained that it was unintentional, she had simply felt so incredibly good that he couldn't control himself. How could she not forgive him after that, his praise had made her feel so good.

"Oh Merlin Ginny."

Well she certainly knew what his exclamation meant and prepared herself. She suddenly felt a bitter warm taste flood her mouth, hesitating just a moment before dutifully swallowing it down. She kept repeating the action even if she didn't really like it. Harry had told her good girls swallow, not to mention that he personally appreciated it. That was all the incentive she needed and the warm look he sent her after she gulped down the last drop made it all worthwhile.

He let out a shuddering sigh as he removed himself from her mouth, pulling her up to his chest.

"Mm, you have gotten so much better at that."

His breath against her ear sent a shiver through her spine, his approval bringing a grin to her face. She was such a lucky girl. She felt his hand slide up her thigh before disappearing under her skirt, making her gasp softly when it reached its goal. Her heartbeat quickened in pace with his hand and she had to steady herself against his wide shoulders. It never felt that good when she used her own fingers.

"I want to do the other thing as well."

Ginny felt a twinge of reluctance at that, she could feel that he had fully recovered by the hard rod poking into her stomach. Were all boys this quick to recuperate? She didn't know much about sizes but he was definitively much bigger than what she had glimpsed of her brothers. Doing the other thing always left her feeling a bit sore. Oliver Wood was putting them through almost daily Quidditch practices, having to fly with a sore bum didn't seem too attractive right now.

The first time he had suggested doing it she had been scandalized, she didn't think her bum was meant for that. Harry had however explained that it was very common among proper ladies who wished to preserve their virginity until marriage. They just didn't publicly talk about it out of embarrassment. Well that part she could certainly understand, it did seem awfully embarrassing. But his words had somehow managed to convince her, like they always did, now that she thought about it. Well, it wasn't like he would lie to her, he was The-Boy-Who-Lived after all.

"Umm, well, I have Quidditch p-practice in the morning, I'm not really sure if I'm up for it."

She moaned slightly at his teasing hand, he was keeping her on edge with his slow movements, yet didn't allow her to cross it. His emerald green eyes made contact with hers and seemed to study her for a second before he broke into a small smile.

"Ah, of course. Well that's perfectly understandable."

His tone was understanding and warm, making her smile in return. He gently removed his hand while continuing.

"I guess you're still a bit too young to be able to handle it, it's no problem."

A bolt of anger surged through her chest at his words. She knew he was obviously just trying to placate her but she absolutely despised being called too young. She had heard those same words throughout her entire life, being the youngest of seven children was incredibly annoying at times. The fact that she was also a girl meant the situation was only worse for her, everyone always denying her things because of her age. It wasn't his fault, it's not like he could know how the words affected her. The removal of his hand had also left her unsatisfied, Merlin but she had been so close.

"N-no, actually I changed my mind, I can do it."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at her in question.

"Are you sure? You don't have to, you know."

Ginny smiled in return, she had such a caring boyfriend. But she was not going to be called too young by him, she was less than a year younger than he was.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

He grinned and kissed her deeply in return, stealing her breath away.

"Hop on the bed."

Heat bloomed in her face and she felt red tint her cheeks as she climbed on the bed. Honestly, it was so humiliating to prostate herself on all fours in front of him. But that was the way he had told her to do it and he clearly knew far more about these things than she did. She would prefer being face to face but was too embarrassed to ask, rather letting him take the reins. The bed shifted slightly as he climbed up behind her, lifting up her skirt and trailing his hands all over her posterior. She thought she was going to burn up when he pulled down her panties in quick motion, it might not be the first time he had done it but it still made her feel so exposed. A burst of magic traveled down her lower body and she wanted to bury her face in the sheets, the realization that he was cleaning her out before beginning just added to her embarrassment. But proper ladies didn't complain so she kept quiet.

An involuntary gasp slipped out between her lips when she felt two slick fingers press against her bum, slowly easing their way in. She winced slightly at the intrusion but that feeling faded away when she felt his other hand slip down her front to continue the ministrations from earlier. The two scissoring fingers soon became three and she groaned quietly, not even sure if it was from the discomfort caused by one hand or the pleasure caused by the other. She didn't know if she was pleased or disappointed when the hands left her, but when they instead moved to her hips to steady her she inhaled sharply. A soft chuckle came from behind her as she felt Harry gently pat her bum.

"Relax Ginny, you're stiff as a board."

She exhaled and nodded into the sheets, briefly realizing he probably wouldn't be able to see it. But she did hear him hum in agreement as her body relaxed. She took deep steady breaths as she felt him push into her, feeling the way she stretched to accommodate his size. His hand had returned to her front, easing the whole process. She heard a grunt of appreciation behind her as she felt him bottom out, his hips glued to her back.

"Merlin, you are so tight, it feels amazing."

She smiled at that, the knowledge that she felt so good to him pleased her. When he started moving she felt a small bit of regret that they couldn't do it the proper way, but she knew that she didn't need to wait long. Soon they would be married and could do anything they wanted, including showing off their relationship in public. Images of the press hovering around her to get the latest fashion trends from the Lady Potter made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, she was going to be such a celebrity. She pictured the look on her friends faces when they saw The-Boy-Who-Lived escort her to the Ministry Ball as his fiancee, which combined with his marvelous hand was all it took to push her over the edge. She moaned in pleasure, shuddering against his body as fireworks exploded all over her nerves, finally bringing her sweet release. She absently noticed Harry's furious pounding as he also reached his limit, a familiar warmth flooding her insides.

He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily while still lodged in her. She smiled happily at his satisfied face.

"I can't wait to see my mum's reaction when she hears about us."

A frown marred his satisfied face before he responded.

"You do know you can't tell her about us right?"

"Yes, yes, because you want to protect me from potential enemies. I understand that, but this is my mother, she'll need to know so she can start planning the wedding."

He stood up from the bed, starting to get dressed. She followed suit, wincing slightly at the soreness of her bum as she pulled her socks back on. She couldn't wait to see the look on Lavender's face when they announced their engagement. She briefly wondered when would be a good time to make the announcement before her eyes widened in realization, it was soon going to be the tenth of October. Harry's heroic day. No doubt he would be throwing a huge party to celebrate the day he became The-Boy-Who-Lived. That would be a perfect time to make the announcement.

"I don't think it's a good idea to tell her."

She sighed as she started pulling her shoes on, he was almost as overprotective as her brothers.

"Harry I need to tell my mother, she has been dreaming of me becoming the Lady Potter for as long as I can remember. She's going to be overjoyed."

"Are you absolutely certain you wish to go through with this?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I have to tell her, she'll need time to prepare for the wedding and all the children."

She finished pulling her other shoe on just as she heard his voice, his tone sounding different from the usual. Flat.

"It is unfortunate it had to come to this."

"Come to what?" She asked, turning around to face him, only to feel her breath catch as she found his wand pointed between her eyes, the usual warmth in his eyes gone.

"What are y-"

"Legilimens"

She didn't have time to ask what the strange word meant before every single private rendezvous she had with him flashed through her eyes, blinking by so quickly she barely understood what was going on. She felt a brief moment of guilt when the memory of her starting to write the letter to inform her mother from earlier today flitted through her mind. She discarded the feeling though, it was just an early version she had doodled into her notebook and she knew that he would agree to tell her.

"Harry, what are you doi-"

"Obliviate"

Ginny blinked as she stared at the contents of her bag spread all over the hallway floor. She sighed in dismay, she must have been daydreaming and dropped it. Grumbling she bent down to pick up her things. Spotting her notebook she silently cursed, just her typical luck, the lid of the inkwell had gotten loose and spilled black ink all over the last few pages. She quickly spelled the ink back into the container, only to frown when a black residue was still left covering the pages. Weird. She shrugged, either the ink had already seeped into the paper or she had flubbed the spell. Checking it she huffed, it's not like it mattered, her latest notes from yesterday were untouched.

Shoving the things into her bag she stood up, grunting in discomfort as she felt how sore her bum was. No doubt from all the Quidditch that madman Wood had put them through.

"Tempus"

She gasped in surprise when she saw the time, dinner had already started! She must have lost track of time. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder she started trotting towards the Great Hall, a small smile on her face. Maybe today she would be able to catch the attention of Harry Potter. From the glimpses she had seen of him he was just amazing, everything she had ever dreamed of. The-Boy-Who-Lived was truly incredible.


	6. Aye

**Chapter 6: Aye.**

His hand shook slightly as he moved to add the sliced dandelion root to the potion, before freezing as another hand grabbed his arm right at the edge of the cauldron. Neville Longbottom looked at his potions partner in question, what did he do wrong this time? Harry Potter just tapped his finger on a section in his book, prompting him to read it. He flushed slightly when he realized he had accidentally skipped a step, adding the root now could have had disastrous consequences. It was the third time this lesson alone that he had prevented him from botching the brew.

Neville wasn't entirely certain why Harry chose to sit next to him but he definitively wasn't complaining. His utter and complete calm helped to counter-act his own nervosity, letting him concentrate on the class better. No one seemed to bully or mock him either with the Boy-Who-Lived at his side, it was honestly quite nice. Then again he had never seen anyone bully Harry Potter, the ones stupid enough seemed to have it backfire on them spectacularly. He felt a small twinge of jealousy, Neville couldn't help wishing he had the same sort of self-confidence and assurance, it would make his life in the school so much easier. Being referenced as 'the squib' wasn't exactly flattering.

He glanced at Professor Snape, not for the first time wondering what exactly had happened to the dour man. After being confined to the Hospital Wing for a week after his weird seizure, he had been in an even fouler mood than before. Strangely he seemed to utterly ignore Harry these days, pretending like he didn't even exist, instead of attempting to provoke him like he did during the first month. Well as far as Neville was concerned that was just a bonus for him, with Harry as his partner Snape seemed to ignore him as well, something that was definitively a welcome change.

"It's done."

Neville sighed in relief as he looked at the completed potion, feeling pretty embarrassed that Harry had done pretty much everything, leaving the chopping and dicing of ingredients to him. He saw Harry pull out his usual thick tome to read while waiting for the class to end. He had tried glancing at it before but couldn't make any sense of the characters, the book was probably spelled to only be readable to him. It might even be a family tome, which meant touching it was suicidal, not that he had any intention of trying it. He started on his homework only to smile when he heard the bell, this was the last potions class of the week. Thank Merlin for small favors.

He was startled when Harry kept pace with him outside the class, seeming to study him as they walked.

"Cast a spell Neville."

"Huh?"

"Any spell, just do some magic."

He frowned, was Harry trying to mock him like the other Slytherins? No, his face was completely passive, none of the usual smirks or sneers that usually accompanied people when they were insulting him.

"I'm not, uh, very good at magic."

"So I have heard."

He flushed, of course he would have heard about the squib of Gryffindor. He noticed he was still waiting for him. Well it wasn't like he was actually a squib, he could cast spells, it was just incredibly difficult. The idea that Harry Potter actually thought he was a squib made him cringe and he quickly pulled out his wand.

"Tempus"

He had to focus to make the time show up, not exactly the most impressive spell but it was one he knew he could always do. Looking back at Harry he noticed that his eyes had narrowed at his old wand.

"Is that your wand?"

"Eh? Well not really, it was my dad's."

"Why aren't you using your own wand?"

He winced.

"I, uh, don't have one."

Harry suddenly stopped, staring at him. His look was incredulous.

"What? Why wouldn't you have your own wand? As far as I know the Longbottoms don't have any financial problems."

He fought the urge to stare at the floor.

"My grandmother doesn't think I need a wand of my own. She said it was good enough for my father so it should be good enough for me."

"What utter nonsense."

Neville looked at him in surprise.

"That wand is an atrocious match for you, what on earth is your grandmother thinking? Did she not take into account your mother's magic at all? Just because it chose your father doesn't mean it's a match for you. Every wizard and witch knows this."

This time Neville did stare at the floor, trying to keep from mumbling.

"I just want my dad to be proud of me."

Harry scoffed.

"What do you think would make your father more proud, watching you fumble with a mismatched wand or watching you grow into a competent wizard with a proper match?"

He looked up at that, Harry did make sense. But his grandmother wouldn't allow it. He said as much.

"Allow it? What does your grandmother have to do with your magic? It's yours, your birthright, your legacy from your parents. What right does she have to handicap you? With what right does she interfere in your magic?"

He was shocked at how heated his tone had become, Harry was usually cool as a cucumber but now he looked genuinely angry. His green eyes practically blazed as he stared into his.

"We are fixing this now."

"Wha-"

He didn't get any further before Harry pushed him into a classroom, fishing out some sort of bundle from his pocket.

"Put that on."

Neville gasped when he saw what he was holding, it was an invisibility cloak, they were ridiculously expensive. Looking at Harry's impatient face he quickly complied, marveling at the way his body disappeared from view. How useful wouldn't this have been during the last few years. His eyes widened even further when Harry tapped himself on the head with his wand, shimmering from view. A nonverbal Disillusionment Charm, he wasn't even sure they taught that at Hogwarts.

"Follow me."

He squinted his eyes to make out the shimmering haze that flickered in front of him, leading him through the castle with obvious ease. They would randomly stop at nondescript locations, only for Harry to mumble out a phrase or touch something, making walls or paintings fade away, revealing some of the numerous secret passages that littered the castle. How had he found all of these already, he had only been here for a month! He doubted even the Weasley twins knew about some of these passages, he could see a thick coating of dust cover the floor, having clearly lain there undisturbed for years. The tunnel they were currently in seemed to go on for ages, slanting down the entire way, the chill of being underground permeating through the dirt. Just as he was about to lose his nerve and ask Harry where they were, he stopped, pulling down a ladder from the ceiling. Neville hesitantly followed him up the ladder, ending up in plain looking room.

He swallowed nervously when he looked out the dirty window, they weren't even in the castle anymore, they were in Hogsmeade village.

"Harry! Students are not allowed to leave Hogwarts grounds! We're going to be in so much trouble."

Harry calmly dispelled his charm, grinning at him as he pulled away the invisibility cloak.

"You are indeed correct Neville, we would be in trouble, if we actually got caught. Better make sure we aren't."

Neville gaped at him as he tapped his own head again, casting what looked like a Glamour Charm, making him look like a cross between Malfoy and Ron. It would probably have been funny if he wasn't scared out of his mind. A cold trickle ran down his head as Harry tapped him as well, probably hiding his features along with the obvious Hogwarts robes.

"What are you doing?"

Harry quirked his eyebrow at him.

"Isn't it obvious, fixing your wand problem."

"Huh?"

He got no further before Harry grabbed his arm and twisted on the spot, making the world spin before his entire being seemed to be squeezed from all directions. Before he knew it he was standing in Diagon Alley, staring at him with wide eyes. Apparition. His grandmother had Side-Along Apparated with him multiple times, but he hadn't expected a student of his age to know it. Harry quickly started walking into the alley, prompting him to catch up.

"Uh, won't you get in trouble for that, underage Apparation is illegal?"

His answer was delivered with a small smirk.

"I claimed my titles. Even if I can't fully access all the benefits that comes with that until I finish my OWLs, I was still able to get a License to Apparate."

Neville exhaled in relief at that, he didn't want him to get in trouble for this. This.. wait what? They were actually heading towards Ollivanders Wand Shop. No way. He wasn't kidding, he was actually going to get him a proper wand. His grandmother would be furious if she found out. He frowned at that thought. Harry's words had struck a chord in him. What right did she have to get angry at him for getting a matching wand? None. It didn't exist. He could still carry his dad's wand as a legacy, but if it didn't match what could he possibly do? Suffer through another three years of being called a squib? No. He felt his resolve harden and straightened his back, trying to match the confident pose of the boy beside him. He was finally going to get his own wand. A small hesitant smile appeared on his face. Harry glanced at him, noticing the change.

"Looks like you have made up your mind. Good."

They received a few strange glances walking up to the wand shop, it was rare to see people of their age in the alley during the school year. Reaching the battered looking old shop Neville quickly pulled open the door, the looks they were getting was making his palms sweaty.

"Ah, Mr Longbottom, I expected to see you a while ago."

He froze briefly in the doorway, caught off guard by the old white haired man instantly recognizing him despite of his Glamour Charm. He remembered other people mentioning that the man was pretty strange, yet obviously good at his craft. He felt a hand pat him on the shoulder and snapped out of it, making room for Harry to enter. The kindly expression on the old man changed to something far more focused as he spotted Harry, pale silver eyes narrowing.

"And Mr.. Potter."

He sounded almost hesitant saying his name, weird.

"I see that you are still.. incomplete."

Harry looked annoyed, which now that he thought about it was pretty unusual, he was always so composed.

"That is none of your business."

"You are running out of time Mr Potter."

Harry's tone became far colder.

"I am well aware of that old man, we're not here to talk about me. Mind your own business."

"Ah, but you very well know that your 'business' affects us all."

"Look, we're here to get Neville a wand, nothing else. Can we get on with it?"

Mr Ollivander glanced at the boy in question before turning his eyes back to Harry.

"Tell me Mr Potter, have you started having headaches yet?"

Harry's eyes became glacial and he could almost feel the temperature dropping inside the small enclosed space, a small shiver traveling down his back.

"Either you find him a wand now or we will go to your competition."

"Ah, I take that as a yes."

Ignoring the frosty glare he got in return he turned to Neville and started enthusiastically working through his huge collection of wands, muttering about the strange materials as he attempted to match one with his magic. Neville was confused about the whole discussion, what business were they talking about. He leaned over towards Harry who seemed to have returned to his usual calm self.

"What was all that about?"

"Ignore it, the man is old and senile, he's probably slightly demented from age."

Well he could agree that the man was pretty weird, but the anger his questions had stoked in Harry had been very real. He shrugged as he grabbed another of the wands being offered to him, it wasn't his business. If he wanted to keep it secret then who was he to pry.

Discarding one wand after another, he absently grabbed a cherry wand being offered by Ollivander, this was what, number fifty? He gasped as his fingers touched the finely crafted wood, a surge of heat and flooding through his body. It felt like sinking into a hot bath, yet he could feel it inside his very veins, pouring through his body into the wand. The feeling was incredible and he could only watch with wide eyes as a shower of sparks erupted from the tip, bathing the small shop in a kaleidoscope of color.

Was this magic? His magic? The surge died down but he could still feel it coursing through his veins, engulfing his entire being. He couldn't help staring at the wand in rapture. This one thing trumped all the words that had ever been directed at him. The hateful insults, the sarcastic comments, even the feeble half-hearted encouragements. In his hand he held the very proof that went against everything he thought. The disappointed looks his grandmother used to send him and the various ways Uncle Algie would attempt to 'force his magic out' were drops of water compared to the ocean that poured through him now. They had all been wrong. He was no squib.

"Ahh a perfect match. That'll be seven galleons."

Neville froze, he hadn't thought to bring any money. He didn't even have time to bring any.

"Don't worry about it Neville, I'll cover you."

His ingrained manners wanted to reject Harry's offer, but the feeling of the wand in his hand was too overwhelming. His grandmother wanted to keep from this?

"Thanks, I'll owe you a big one for this."

Harry shot him a grin as he handed over the coins to Ollivander.

"About that Neville, we need to talk about some matters once we get back to Hogsmeade."

"Yeah, sure."

He wasn't really paying attention, too caught up in the feeling of finally reaching his magic, playing with the slim piece of wood. He only snapped to attention when Harry Apparated them back to Hogsmeade, having blanked out during the walk to the Apparition point.

"Neville, there's something we need to talk about."

He looked at him in question, prompting him to continue.

"Your grandmother sits in the Wizengamot, I'm pretty sure you have heard at least some whispering about the things that have been happening as of later. Increased muggle baiting, sporadic magical fights breaking out, increased trading of dark materials, the surge of dark creatures and an overall increase in dark activity?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, she's been pretty busy. She's also been meeting with a lot of other members lately but hasn't really told me why."

"Yes Neville, and this sudden surge started during the summer. Right after the end of the third task."

His eyes widened slightly, the mysterious disappearance of Cedric Diggory had made some big headlines. Especially as they never found him.

"Diggory was only the first. The first of many. What am I about tell you can not leave this room, understand?"

"Y-yeah."

"Voldemort is not dead. It was he who killed Diggory. It was his.. coming out party you might say."

He shivered at the casual use of his name.

"W-what!? But everyone said he was dead!"

"Where is his body? His wand was found on Pettigrew. What actual proof is there of his death?"

Neville felt his mind go blank, he had no idea. He had no reason to distrust Harry's word either, why would he lie to him after all this?

"How do you know this?"

He frowned slightly.

"Sorry, I can't tell you that, but I do know it to be the truth."

"B-but we have to tell people? Does Professor Dumbledore know?"

"Dumbledore probably suspects it. Do not confuse his kindness for stupidity, one does not survive in wizarding politics for several decades by being foolish. As for telling people? What evidence do we have? My word? It might carry some weight but do you truly think the current Ministry would act on it? Especially with Lucius Malfoy having his hooks into him?"

Neville grimaced, his grandmother referred to Minister Fudge as a 'bumbling fool'. From what he had seen of him he tended to agree.

"Why tell me?"

"Because when he comes out into the open again he will seek out his old servants. His most loyal. Rodolphus Lestrange. Rabastan Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange."

Neville barely noticed when he squeezed his fists so hard that he broke the skin of his palms. The Lestranges. There was no one else he hated more on this earth than those three. The ones who gleefully tortured his parents into insanity. The ones who stole his childhood. The ones who left him with two lifeless husks to stare at.

"What.."

He swallowed thickly before continuing.

"What do you want of me?"

"During the last war the Houses of Potter and Longbottom were allied, sworn to rise up to help one another if the need arose. I wish to reinstate that alliance, raise it from the dust it fell into when our parents were attacked. Neville Longbottom, Scion of House Longbottom, will you come to the aid of House Potter when I call?"

Neville looked at his hand before staring into his green eyes, swirling with determination. He briefly fingered his new wand, now more than ever understanding why Harry made sure he got it. He needed to prepare. Never in his memory had he felt such a lack of hesitation as when he grabbed his hand and shook it.

"Aye.. The House of Longbottom will answer."


	7. Pretty in pink

**Chapter 7: Pretty in pink**

Madam Undersecretary Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge inspected her new quarters with a small smile. The delightful pink brought some color and life into the otherwise drab room and her small porcelain figures only helped complete the figure. She really disliked the old castle, so grey and dull, the home to far too many ugly memories of her childhood. She suppressed the memories of boys shunning her, if they couldn't recognize a quality witch then that was their loss.

A shudder ran down her spine as she adjusted her pink cardigan, thinking about her old quarters. She had been happily living there for months, until she found out it was the very same rooms the beast had used a few years ago. Enraged she had demanded new lodgings from that senile old man, what was he thinking, putting her in quarters that had once housed a werewolf. Disgusting. Utterly repulsive. She had spent hours in the bath scrubbing herself clean to get rid of anything filthy she might have caught from the abomination. Even now she had to suppress the urge to take a shower, just thinking about the memory.

Glancing at the clock she smirked, glad for the distraction, it was time for another delightful class. She grabbed her adorable little purse and made her way towards the DADA classroom on the other side of the castle. Her small dainty steps echoed in the hallways, her mother had always taught her that a proper pureblooded lady took measured steps in all occasions.

Even if she didn't like the castle she understood why she was there. Fully approved in fact. After all, someone needed to keep an eye on the senile old goat, Cornelius suspected he was making a play for his spot. It wouldn't surprise her, at his age Dumbledore had no doubt left his wits behind long ago. There was also the matter of the Potter boy. The sheer arrogance of the boy astounded her, to ignore a letter from the Minister himself. If it had been her in the seat she would have him thrown in Azkaban for such blatant disrespect.

She sniffed, that was sadly impossible at the moment. For some reason the press was quite taken with the boy. That interest would no doubt fade soon enough, once his true character became known. He was a half-blood after all, it was inevitable something disgusting would come to light. His hunger for special treatment was obvious enough as it was, she couldn't believe he had actually attempted to get his OWLs done without even attending Hogwarts. Such blatant disrespect of tradition. No doubt influenced by that mudblood mother of his. Blood would always tell.

She was truly grateful Lucius Malfoy had been talking with Cornelius when the notice came through that Potter had sent a barrister to request the matter. Cornelius, while a great Minister, was far too soft of heart and would clearly have allowed the boy to sit his OWLs if they could sit down for some tea afterwards. Lucius had however strongly argued against that, citing tradition and the boys earlier disrespect as reasons why he should be forced to attend Hogwarts like everyone else. She had naturally agreed, if they started giving half-bloods special treatment then Merlin only knew where they would end up. She had even heard rumors that he had attempted to bribe the official examiners to get the OWLs done. The sheer arrogance, it was unfortunate that they could never dig up the evidence to support it.

A small smile quirked her lips when she thought about Lucius, one could immediately tell he was of purest stock. Even with the disgraceful allegations thrown at him in his past he had kept his poise. Such a charming man, he had helped them immensely.

Still, Potter's request had been summarily rebuked which was the most important thing. She honestly couldn't understand what his hurry was anyway, writing his OWLs would only have allowed him to petition matters at Gringotts, it wasn't like they would let him sit in the Wizengamot either way. She snorted at the thought, a child in the chamber. Preposterous.

She jolted from her thoughts when she almost walked right into the Bones child, sniffing loudly. A nuisance, just like her Aunt. Amelia Bones's power grabbing attempts had been painful to watch as of late. She kept talking about the increase in dark activity and muggle baiting, constantly demanding more funding and a larger Auror force. Naturally Lucius had seen right through her ploy, informing them that she was only trying to create fear and enlarge her own department, no doubt making her own claim for the Minister's chair. Clever man. The woman's outraged face whenever Cornelius shot down her pitiful attempts was quite entertaining, did she truly think they were that foolish? Who even cared about muggle baiting anyway, there was far too many of them, if someone was culling the population then good riddance to bad rubbish.

She smiled brightly as she walked into her classroom, looking at all the bright promises that sat in front of her. Well, with a few exceptions.

"Good morning class."

"Good morning Professor Umbridge."

She coughed delicately in her hand, just like her mother used to do. That greeting had been quite too halfhearted.

"Come now, that was no proper greeting, let's try again. Good morning class."

"Good morning Professor Umbridge."

Dolores smiled, much better. That was the problem with today's youth, they had to be taught respect. She glanced at the Potter boy, that one especially. She coughed delicately again.

"Today we shall be reading of the most vilest of dark creatures, the bane of our society, the disease of our great country."

She saw they way they looked up in interest, it was about time someone competent was teaching them.

"I am of course talking about werewolves."

A gasp of outrage was heard but she ignored it.

"These diseased beasts are a danger to our society, running around without any control, preying on children and spreading their vile sickness. No cure exists for this vileness, killing one might in fact be called a mercy, freeing the poor soul from the torment they suffer."

She sniffed in distaste at the way the Granger mudblood was waving her hand, it had been up since she mentioned the beasts.

"Miss Granger?"

"That's not true at all, Professor Lupin was a great teacher and no danger to us!"

Dolores fought the urge to raise a napkin to her face, being forced to breathe in the same air as the mudblood was repulsive. She would make sure to check in at St Mungo's during the Christmas break, Merlin only knew what diseases were being spread around the room.

"No danger?"

She sniffed.

"Just two years ago Lupin was involved in the deaths of two notable purebloods, on these very school grounds. He was seen running around in his beast form like a mad dog."

"Pettigrew deserved what he got!"

Dolores was disgusted, how utterly expected that the mudblood would defend the beast. Both of them were so alike, leeches of society. Merlin only knew what wickedness they had been up to in the school.

"Detention for speaking out of turn Miss Granger. A muggleborn should not be talking about what a pureblood does or doesn't deserve, such matters don't concern you."

"What do you mean 'a muggleborn'?"

Dolores huffed, the girl had no common sense.

"Muggleborns just like werewolves are a burden to our society, one which the magical community has been forced to bear. They take and they steal but they give nothing back. That will be a week of detention Miss Granger."

The girl's eyes widened in outrage but she barely controlled her mouth, making Dolores smirk. She was learning. It was slow just like the training of any beast, but they could be taught. Glancing at the rest of them she was surprised to see Potter raise his hand. He usually didn't participate at all, making it hard for her to get him into detention.

"Mr Potter?"

"Are you also of the opinion that Lily Potter was a 'burden to our society'?"

She frowned, never understanding why that mudblood was so popular. It was obvious that it was James Potter's blood or the wards at his home that had overcome You-Know-Who, the idea that Evans had had anything to do with it was ridiculous. Just because James Potter had been bewitched by the foul woman didn't mean that he wasn't a pureblood of an old house.

"Naturally, Lily Evans was just a typical mud-, muggleborn who stole from her peers, using the achievements of those around her to elevate her own position. Her cheating was rather obvious for those who knew where to look. The fate of James Potter just shows what happens when you socialize with a muggleborn."

She thought she saw something glint in his eyes before he gave a polite smile.

"Ah, thank you Professor Umbridge, if could I ask another question?"

Dolores frowned, having expected a stronger reaction. She was itching to have the boy in a detention, teach him some manners. Cornelius had been adamant about not directly harming him, worried about the political outfall. That didn't worry her too much, what Cornelius didn't know wouldn't harm him, a few hours of writing lines would show Potter his place. It always did.

"Go on."

"I was merely wondering why the Ministry hadn't changed their examination protocol if her cheating was so obvious."

He tilted his head slightly with a small smile.

"After all, she did score the highest Charms score in over thirty years on her NEWTs. One would expect the Ministry to correct such an obvious flaw."

Dolores grit her teeth, the half-blood actually dared to disrespect the Ministry.

"The issues have naturally been fixed, we merely did not see the need to inform the public of such minute changes."

He nodded his head amicably.

"Ah, of course. While we're on the matter of NEWTs, how come you are allowed to teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts? After all, you did only receive an Acceptable score in your NEWT and Ministry regulations specifically state that an Outstanding score is required for any teacher wishing to impart their wisdom at Hogwarts. It seems like a rather discouraging case of, well, breaking the law."

She felt blood rush to her head in her rage. How the boy had even gained access to her records was a mystery, but he actually dared mock her and the Ministry like this. The barely controlled snorts from the other students only served to feed her anger.

"Detention Mr Potter."

"Oh, whatever for?"

"Blatantly disrespecting a teacher, you will report to this classroom at seven pm this evening."

"This evening? Of course Professor Umbridge."

She clenched her jaw, at least it appeared even The-Boy-Who-Lived could be taught. It was a Friday, she would gladly ruin his weekend. Ordering them to read the chapter on werewolves she focused on controlling her breathing. The quiet sniggering in the room made her clench her fists. The damned half-blood would be learning some respect tonight.

When the bell finally rang she forced herself to keep a polite smile on her face, the amused looks the students sent her reminded her far too much of the time she had spent as a student. She had certainly gotten revenge on those that dared to mock her back then, she would do the same here. She stayed in her seat for a while to calm her churning mind, staring at the empty seats. It had been a victory in the end, she would finally have Potter alone in her classroom. Quickly checking her purse she smiled at the small vial of Veritaserum, the boy had no idea about what was going to hit him. Feeling her heartbeat even she glanced at the clock, deciding it was time to head to the Great Hall, it wouldn't do to miss the dinner. She couldn't allow them to think she was hiding from their laughing eyes.

Her heels echoed in the empty corridor as she made her way towards to the hall, the ever present draft in the castle making her shiver slightly. Reaching the large staircase she heard a soft creak behind her, turning her eyes towards the sound. She scoffed when she saw it was only a door slowly opening, the rusty hinges whining in protest. Blasted drafty castle, she couldn't wait to get out of this place. Turning back to the steep staircase she started making her way down, not liking the way the draft had extinguished some of the candles, casting the stairs in a gloomy light. Weren't the candles charmed to always burn? Well the castle was old, they could have ran out.

She had barely finished the thought before she suddenly felt her foot slip, her eyes widening in shock. Her hands desperately groped in the darkness, trying to find something to grasp. Her nails scraped against the smooth stone, splintering and tearing against the unyielding wall, and in her panic she brought her other foot forward, trying to stop her momentum. Too late she remembered this was the staircase with trick step, her leg sinking down halfway to the calf at an angle, before locking firmly in place. The sudden drop only made her loss of balance worse, her arms flailing wildly as she toppled forwards. Her full weight landed on the hyperextended knee and she could actually hear the loud snaps as the ligaments tore, her leg bending past the natural angle, ripping through the soft tissue like overboiled spaghetti. Her knee was left with no space and promptly dislocated to the side as she fell face forward into the hard wood, her teeth breaking and snapping from the harsh impact.

A brief second of shock flashed through her before the agonizing pain hit like a freight train, tearing an agonized shriek from her throat. The blood in her ruined mouth made her gurgle and in her despair she realized that her only answer was the soft echo of her scream in the empty hallways. Even the slightest movement aggravated her leg, still stuck in the trick step, her entire body weight hanging from the ruined knee, tearing at the already broken tissue. She desperately tried to alleviate her pain by lifting herself with her arms, but soon realized she didn't have the strength to support her weight. Forced to abandon the plan she sobbed quietly as she reached for her wand, only to weep openly when she noticed it had fallen down the stairs. It was sitting on the stair right below her, only a few meters away, but the distance might as well have been a mile.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"

"Heeeelp.. elp.. elp"

The soft echo seemed almost mocking, like the castle itself was laughing at her. A sudden breeze blew through the hallway and her ragged breath hitched when the last of the candles were extinguished, leaving her in complete darkness. The only sound she heard in the pitch black darkness was her heavy breathing and the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. Her wail of pain and desperation only became louder when she remembered it was indeed a Friday. This part of the castle was unused except for her classes, she had chosen the room specifically because she liked the decor. No one would even think to visit this part of the castle until Monday, when the students walked up to the class after breakfast. Would they search for her? No, she realized, she often spent her weekends at the Ministry. No one would even notice. Not even Potter would find her, he would walk to the class from the Slytherin dungeons, which was on the other side of the castle. Would he report that she wasn't there? No, she highly doubted that.

Her soft sobs overpowered the sound of the creaking door from earlier, slowly closing, moving against the draft.


	8. Incomplete

**Chapter 8: Incomplete**

The pain struck like it always did, completely without warning and with overwhelming ferocity. Harry Potter clutched his head in agony, leaning against the wall as he tried to desperately control his mind. It was a fierce tearing pain, like raking claws ripping through his head, his mind, his very being. He reinforced his Occlumency to separate what was him from what was trying to take him over. His breath sounded raw in his ears, the strain incredible. With a gasp of effort he managed to force it back once more, keeping his own self.

His own self. He was no longer certain what that meant. He had been slipping as of late, the niggling parasite in his mind burrowing ever deeper. Amplifying his anger, encouraging his recklessness, increasing his paranoia and feeding his fear. It fed on every negative emotion he felt and reveled in the carnage he produced. Voldemort. He spat on the floor in disgust. His cool calm was slipping too easily these days.

His retribution towards Umbridge, while in his mind justified, had still been reckless. The danger of exposure was too great, his former self would have just sat quietly and let the toad prattle on. But when she pushed his buttons he could feel the way his rage bubbled and his magic tingled, it could not be forgiven.

Helping Longbottom was also a source of confusion. He was no longer certain if he did it out of pity, compassion or annoyance. Watching the weak fool fumble through his work had constantly aggravated him, knowing he could have been the one. Could he have sunk so low if their roles were reversed? He wanted to deny it, but the weak boy that had lived at the Dursleys had been utterly pathetic. His anger had forced action out of him when he heard how Longbottom had been denied his birthright. Denied his magic. It hit far too close to home, the feel of someone else controlling your actions. Your future. At least he had salvaged an ally out of the whole debacle, yet his use was debatable. His progress as of late had been admirable, but he was still just a student. In an actual fight he would be of little use against experienced Death Eaters, veterans of war. The political assistance was intriguing, but for now he was under his grandmother's heel.

Harry dearly hoped he would not be forced to rely on allies, his entire plan relied on working alone. He snarled in anger, he had already been forced to change his plan so many times. God damn Lucius Malfoy, whispering in Fudge's ear while filling his pockets with gold. If he had only been allowed to get an exception for his OWLs, then he wouldn't be forced to waste a whole damn year in this castle, attending pointless classes where he already knew everything being taught. He needed those pointless results, it was the only way he would be allowed to make official decisions as a Head of his House. He had to get into Bellatrix's vault, the cup that had set there for over a decade was the key to his future. He could almost taste it in his mind, so close but still so far away.

The fucking goblins had been of little of use. He had thought to exploit their unending greed, but the second he had even hinted at a bribe they had almost removed his head. Greedy yes, but clearly sticklers for rules. The thought of breaking in had crossed his mind more than once, but the danger of exposure and being outright caught was too high after Voldemort himself had ripped through their wards five years ago. Their security bordered on the ridiculous these days.

Allies. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He preferred to work alone. Even if he was forced to ally with someone, there were few options. Dumbledore would be by far the most useful, yet he was also the highest risk. The man already suspected him and he had seen more than one calculative look being sent his way. Just because he had managed to catch the old wizard off guard during their very first meeting didn't mean that he thought he could beat him at any of his games. While old, he was still a magical and political genius, having held a firm grip on his political power for decades. In terms of magical power he didn't even consider it, only Merlin knew how much hidden knowledge the wizard actually possessed. Even Voldemort in his unending arrogance was hesitant to fight him, which meant Harry had a snowball's chance in hell of taking him down if things went sour.

He could not trust the man either. He had no doubt suspected what his scar was, especially knowing the prophecy. That he would ship him off to muggles, isolating him from the magical world entirely, spoke of plans. Plans which he had upset. Dumbledore was definitively a wizard of the 'light' side, if such a thing even existed. But he was also an adamant supporter of the 'greater good', which didn't necessarily mean Harry's greater good. No, for now he would need to act alone.

Alone. Against Voldemort. He clenched his jaw, those were not good odds. He had no illusions when it came to a straight forward fight with the man. He would crush Harry like an insect under his heel. The man was powerful, driven and completely without morals. His countless rituals had honed his body into a machine with the sole purpose of achieving his goals. No obstacle was too large and no act too heinous if it meant increasing his powers. He had even heard the talks about young missing muggle girls as of late. Harry knew Voldemort would never allow his followers to risk exposure just to take some simple pleasure from their victims. No, he knew the true purpose. The virgin girls were merely catalysts for his rituals, raising his power to what it was before his defeat. Having to use Diggory instead of him had no doubt thrown his rebirth off, which was a key element of Harry's plan.

His incredibly fragile plan at that. It had so much potential to go wrong. He would have but one chance at killing the man, that one single second of hesitation that he knew would occur. He had no intentions of fighting any honorable duels, a Killing Curse from the shadows or a cursed dagger in the back had a far higher chance of success. He spent hours each day honing his skills, squeezing the last bit of knowledge out of whatever shattered memories that flitted through his skull. The more he learned the more he realized how outmatched he was. This was but a fraction of what the man held. He did however know the man had weaknesses. Weaknesses Voldemort didn't realize he had. The cost of certain rituals was higher than others, something he didn't know. His arrogance would be his downfall. Maybe. Hopefully.

Another flash of pain ran through his head, like slimy fingers probing at his very soul. Damn. It was becoming more and more frequent. Ollivander had been right on both counts. He was running out of time and he was incomplete. If the man only knew how accurate his words had been. Who knows, maybe he did, he had always been a mystery.

Merlin, but he could really use a good shag now. There was something ironic about the way the pleasures of the flesh kept the invasive force in his mind at bay. Even if it was just temporary, it let him recover and rebuild what had been torn. Ginny had been useful in that aspect, naive, willing and obedient. It was a shame she insisted on talking, that simply couldn't be allowed. Lavender was luckily just as eager, happily spreading her legs at his every whim. He found it amusing that she seemed to take some sort of pride about 'bagging' him. But who was he to argue, she was an attractive fun loving girl who happened to be very willing. Oh he knew she talked, but the poor girl hadn't realized the importance of reputation in the world. No one took her quite seriously. Even when they asked him, he only had quirk an eyebrow in amusement and they assumed she was lying. He could use a second Ginny right about now though, maybe that shy Bones girl from Hufflepuff that stuttered and stammered whenever he looked at her.

Harry wasn't quite sure why the shadow in his mind retreated whenever he shagged. It could be the intimacy of the act that was foreign, or simply its own disinterest in it. Voldemort had always hungered after power more than women. The day he had discovered that rituals worked better on virgins was the day he found sex to be a weakness. And if there was one thing he would never tolerate, it was weakness. Of course what remained of his libido had died the day he made the diary. He never did quite understand how much he was giving up every time he created a horcrux. Some rituals were more expensive than others.

Another convulsion ran through his body, like nails on a chalkboard, and he knew his time was running out. He had wished to delay it further but was left with no options, he could practically feel his mind unraveling. It had been five years since he bypassed the familiar Malfoy wards and retrieved the diary. Two years since he was forced to come out into the open, claiming his titles to get access to 12 Grimmauld Place to search for the locket. A year since he had dared to brave the curse that protected Marvolo Gaunt´s ring. Now he was forced to act again, like an addict craving his next fix. And like with any addict, the time between doses was decreasing rapidly.

He quickly scanned the Marauder's map, making sure he was alone. The foolish Weasley twins had actually tried following him around in the castle, one obliviation later he was in possession of his rightful property. He wondered if they still thought Snape had stolen it from their room. It amused him to no end to watch them place the blame on him. Stowing it back into his pocket he paced back and forth in front of the Room of Requirement, watching with trepidation as the door materialized.

He entered the vast storage room with a small coating of sweat on his brow. He hated this part. It disgusted him. It always felt like he was losing a small part of himself. But there was no choice, no options. Neither can live while the other survives. He had hoped the prophecy wouldn't be so literal. A fool's hope.

The familiar diadem glittered in the light. Rowena Ravenclaw's treasured diadem. Once a priceless artifact of knowledge, now a container of the vilest filth. He had considered moving it from its location but was too afraid to interact with it, let alone letting anyone else touch it. Even from half a room away he could feel it resonate at his presence, like a sonar, the magical echolocation touching something deep within him. How many hours had he not spent in this room, staring at the foul thing whenever he took a break from his practicing.

He snarled when he noticed his hands were shaking. Weak. He clenched his fists, he had no options. He was incomplete. For neither can live. Swallowing deeply he walked towards it, the calls and whispers increasing in volume. He would not falter now, he still had his advantage. The advantage his mother gave him. Pulling a small dagger from his ankle he quickly cut his palm, ignoring the slight sting. It was but a snowflake compared to the blizzard that was about to hit. Not allowing himself to show any more faltering, any more weakness, he reached out with his bloody hand and grabbed the horcrux.

There was a second of pause as the magic clashed, allowing him to feel it falter and scream, before surging like a flood of sewage into his veins. Into his mind. Into his soul. Pain and disgust warred inside him and his very being cried for mercy as all the vileness engulfed him. Who was he? Tom Riddle? No. Harry Potter, son of Lily Potter. He focused on his sense of self, fighting the overwhelming urge to surrender himself to its mercy. _His_ mercy. His eyes felt like they had been replaced by burning coals as the shadow within him fought against his restraints, surged to overpower his Occlumency. Yet where his blood flowed it could not overcome, it could only burrow deeper into his mind, like a parasite spreading into its host. He felt moisture well in his eyes but ignored it, he had long since learned that tears solved nothing. When the strain finally lessened he could feel it settle, like a glue over the shattered pieces that littered his mind. Watching. Waiting. Lurking. Gnawing on his insecurities.

He fought the urge to expel his dinner as he heard the jubilant hiss in his mind, feeling like the voice was licking his ears.

"_Yeeeeessssssssssssss._"


	9. Isn't it strange?

**Chapter 9: Isn't it strange?**

"This should be interesting."

Padma Patil glanced at her good friend Lisa Turpin before nodding.

"Yeah, wonder if he's any good."

"Well he certainly knows what he's doing in class."

Padma hummed in agreement, she found herself actually looking forward to the coming meeting. It had originally been Granger's idea that they had overheard in the library a few days ago. Getting someone to teach them DADA.

Umbridge had returned just a week ago after her stay at St Mungo's, replacing Professor Dumbledore who had filled in for her during that time. The contrast between Umbridge and Dumbledore had been shocking. The Headmaster had been everything they had expected, calm, patient and extremely knowledgeable, effortlessly teaching them to cast spells they should have been practicing from the start of the year.

But with Umbridge's return they were back to staring at textbooks and learning nothing of value besides theory. She seemed rather unstable after her whole accident. Snapping at people left and right, quick to anger and seeming skittish around any shadowed areas. There was a rumor floating around that St Mungo's would have preferred to keep her there because of 'emotional instability', but her contacts at the Ministry had gotten her out. Watching they way she behaved Padma was inclined to believe that rumor. Half the Gryffindors had complained about ringing in their ears after the conversation Potter had had with the woman. She tried to force him into detention but was calmly informed, by Potter himself, that he had already attended it. Apparently Potter had stayed cool as a cucumber while she had shouted herself into a frothing frenzy, insulting anything from magical creatures to every living relative he had ever had. Yet his response had merely been a polite smile, which only seemed to spur her on.

Padma shuddered, she couldn't understand what the Ministry was thinking sending that toad here. Which was why Granger's suggestion of getting someone else to teach them was good. The first person they had thought of was naturally Harry Potter. He seemed to top the classes without even trying, something that had aggravated her housemates to no end. Granger instantly suggested asking him to teach their entire year, but Padma had quickly shot her suggestion down.

Harry Potter had been the talk in her house for some time, his mysterious past combined with his academic performance made him an interesting subject. While Granger thought he would just mindlessly help them, she knew better. She had watched him quite a bit and come to the conclusion that almost everything he did seemed to somehow end up profiting him. Whether if was influence, fame or reputation, his actions were always focused around himself. She had heard Susan Bones talk about him, apparently he had been asking a lot of questions about her aunt. His justification had been a possible interest in becoming an Auror. Padma snorted at that, she would believe it when she saw it. She had spent a lifetime watching her father maneuver around in politics and she knew a future politician when she saw one. Harry Potter would most definitively not settle with some meager Auror post. He was everything she had originally expected Slytherin to be. Cunning, devious and above all, ambitious.

Which was why she knew he would accept her proposal when she caught up to him outside the Charms class the next day.

"Hey, Potter. Do you have a second?"

His green eyes snapped to hers, seeming to pierce through her. Padma suppressed a blush when she noticed him give her a quick once-over. She couldn't quite help it, he was still an attractive young man, regardless of her suspicions.

"Padma Patil right? Sure."

He turned to the two Slytherin girls that seemed to be following him around everywhere he went, Greengrass and Davis.

"I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

They nodded and started walking away, but not before giving her a long look. No doubt wondering what she wanted with him.

"So, how can I help you Ms Patil?"

"Well, uh, could we go somewhere private?"

He shot her a huge roguish smirk.

"Shouldn't we get to know each other before you ask that?"

Padma flushed beet red when she realized what he was implying.

"No! I didn't mean it like that, just to talk. Nothing, uh, else."

"Certainly, lead the way Ms Patil."

She quickly turned around, eager to hide her red face. Leading him up the stairs she caught his reflection in one of the mirrors, quite blatantly ogling her bum with a small smirk. She quickly turned around, the now familiar heat on her face.

"Do you mind?"

He smiled innocently.

"Not at all."

She huffed, but still continued leading him to an abandoned classroom, feeling his eyes glued to her back the entire way. A small part of her did find it flattering, but she was trying to stamp that voice out. Potter glanced around the room and quirked his eyebrow in question when she threw a silencing spell at door.

"Are you sure you didn't bring me here to-"

"No! Look, I have a proposition for you Potter."

His easygoing smile melted away and he gave her his full attention.

"Go on."

"I, we, want you to teach us DADA."

"Sorry but I don't-"

"Shouldn't you ask who 'we' are first?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Who are 'we'?"

"Oh you know, me, Bones, Abbott, Longbottom, Macmillan, Li, Lovegood and some others."

She threw the names out casually, but she very well knew what impact they had. Her father, Abott's father and Macmillan's father all sat on the Wizengamot, having played a part in wizarding politics for decades. Bones's aunt was the head of the DMLE. The Li's, while not influencing politics directly, controlled a large amount of the magical goods trade coming in from Asia. Her own family, while not large in Britain, had significant influence in India and all the trade that came from there. She even threw in the Lovegood name, knowing that even if their family was far from rich, they still had one thing that she assumed would make them interesting to him. They controlled a large magical printing press that was completely independent from the Ministry.

Padma knew she didn't need to tell him the significance of the names, Potter had displayed a shocking amount of knowledge regarding wizarding families in the past. He seemed to know something about just about every major family. Instead she looked into his calculating eyes and smiled prettily.

"We would of course all be, well, in your debt, if you chose to aid us."

His eyes never left hers and she could practically feel the way he was reassessing her. From tasty little eye candy to something else. She didn't take it personally, he was hardly the first person to dismiss her mind. People looked at her twin, Parvati, and assumed that because they were twins she would be like her. Padma shuddered, the girl was friends with Lavender for crying out loud, focusing more on her makeup and gossiping than actually doing magic. It was rare for twins to be sorted into different houses, but they were so different from each other that it had actually happened.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably no longer than a minute or two, he cracked a small smile, apparently seeing her in a new light.

"Interesting."

"Glad to hear it. Is that a yes?"

If even half of what she thought she knew about him was correct, then he would accept. It still eased her mind when he nodded.

"Yes, it is. In the east end of the fourth floor there's an old tapestry that looks like a tangled mess of vines. Tap your wand on the vine that looks like a lock, it will lead to an abandoned storage room. We will meet there on Wednesday seven pm. Bring no more than fifteen."

"But-"

"I have no interest in teaching the entire school, it will be hard enough attempting to teach just fifteen of you to be somewhat competent. Take it or leave it."

Padma felt a jolt of anger at the insinuation that they weren't even competent, just who did he think he was? Yet his face was still passive, there was no sneer or gloating. She realized he wasn't actually trying to insult her, he was merely stating it as a fact. Somehow that made her even angrier, she was going to show him a thing or two.

"Sure, we'll be there. Hope you live up to your reputation Golden boy."

His answer had just been an amused little smirk before he walked out of the room.

* * *

"You reckon this was the one he was talking about?"

Padma snapped out of her thoughts, looking at the weird tapestry in front of them. The green and brown vines seemed to form into an identifiable lock on one side.

"Looks like it, give it a shot."

Lisa did as asked and they both watched in surprise as the vines unraveled in front of them, taking the very wall they were placed upon with them. The small passage that was revealed led to a huge storage room, some old barrels and crates littering the floor. They coughed at the dust they were kicking up and quickly started throwing around cleaning spells. Padma was grateful to whoever had charmed the candles that lit up the room, they had obviously known what they were doing if those things were still burning.

"Merlin, looks like we're the first ones to visit this place in a long time."

Padma nodded, choosing to keep her face covered with a scarf, but her mind was moving a hundred miles a minute. The thick coating of dust meant they were the first ones to enter in what looked like decades, but that didn't make any sense. How did Potter know about the place well enough to accurately describe both the entrance and what lay inside? It was of course possible that he had seen the place mentioned in his parents journals or something similar, but she still found it odd he would recommend a place he hadn't even visited.

With the room finally habitable they sat down on a worn old crate and waited for the rest to arrive. As the clock approached seven the students started trickling in, the enchanted wall parting for each one and quickly closing behind them. Granger was unsurprisingly the first one to enter, they couldn't very well leave her out considering it was her idea. Lovegood was skipping as she entered the room, clearly excited to see a new part of the castle. Abbott and Bones arrived together, those two seemed practically joined at the hip. One by one they arrived, greeting each other and sitting down to wait.

Longbottom arrived a few minutes before seven, catching her eyes. Now there was another budding mystery. Padma didn't know what had happened to the boy during these past few months but it was like someone had exchanged him for another person. The 'squib of Gryffindor' was certainly not the same boy he had been during the past few years. The insults towards his magical ability used to crush him, making him blush and stare at the floor in shame. These days he just ignored it, like the whole accusation was so ridiculous he couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge it. That had aggravated Malfoy something fierce, the boy did not take kindly to being ignored. Yet where he had once been the last to complete a new spell, he was now giving Granger a run for her money. He also seemed focused, even driven as he studied. She knew she wasn't the only one who had noticed the transformation, but when asked he would simply claim ignorance, asking people what they were talking about. Interesting indeed.

Exactly as her clock hit seven the vines parted, fifteen pairs of eyes turning towards the Slytherin boy that entered. Padma was slightly surprised to see Greengrass and Davis with him, but she probably should have been expecting it. Those three seemed to be spending a lot of time together.

"Hello." He greeted.

"Good to see that you are all on time, as I will spell the door shut behind me whenever I enter."

"What if we're late?"

The question came from Ernie Macmillian. Potter only smiled in return.

"Then you clearly had something better to do and will not be able to enter."

Macmillian snorted.

"This is probably a waste of time anyway, what could a student possibly teach us."

Potter casually sliced his wand through the air, she hadn't even seen him draw it. Her eyes weren't the only ones that widened when all their wands flew into his left hand, with the only exception being the Slytherin girls that still had theirs. A nonverbal Summoning Charm. While a simple spell in itself, it was the usage that caused her shock. Summoning one thing was simple, but it became exponentially harder for each additional item added, forcing the caster to split their focus. The fact that the Slytherins still had their wands meant it hadn't been aimed at all the wands in the room, but rather specifically theirs.

"We are not here to discuss my qualifications."

He smiled wryly as he started lobbing the wands back to them one by one.

"No, what I would like to discuss, or perhaps speculate upon, is whether or not you have found some things a bit strange as of late."

She carefully caught her wand, pleased to feel the comforting wood in her palm again.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm glad you asked Padma. Can I call you Padma by the way?"

Waiting for her nod before continuing he started pacing in front of them.

"You see Padma, what I find, well, rather strange, is this recent string of coincidences."

His wry smile was still on his face as he spoke, yet the tone did not carry any amusement.

"Isn't it strange that it has been six months since the end of the Triwizard Cup, yet the Ministry has yet to give any official statement on what happened? I mean we have Cedric Diggory, selected as the strongest contestant in all of Hogwarts, pureblooded and the son of a rather notable ministry worker, who completely disappeared. No trace, no body. Nothing. Soon after they even found Alastor Moody's body in his office, his corpse showing notable signs of having been imprisoned and starved for a long time. His hair was shaved and traces of Polyjuice Potion were found all around the room, strongly indicating that an imposter had been teaching the students."

His voice took an innocent tone as he studied them.

"Well, I find it strange. Perhaps I'm the only one? But isn't it also quite strange how the climate of the wizarding world seemed to change soon after his disappearance? Muggle baiting has been increasing each week, the muggles have been reporting multiple missing people, even the Ministry of Magic has found an unsettling amount of dead muggles killed by magical means. There's also the increased trading of dark ingredients as well the overall rise in dark activity across the country."

His fingers played with his wand, twirling it around his hand as he paced.

"I'm sure it's all just a coincidence."

He wasn't even attempting to sound convinced anymore.

"But while I'm at it I'll admit that I find it rather strange how certain bills and laws have been reappearing in the Wizengamot. Bills opposed to muggleborns that hadn't seen the light of the day since, well, 1981, I think. The Ministry also seems to be working quite heavily against the werewolves, trying to limit them in ways that haven't seen since the late 1970s. Why, If I didn't know any better I'd say someone was trying to alienate them from Magical Britain."

He looked pointedly at Macmillian and Abbot, both who looked uncomfortable. No doubt that their parents had mentioned it, Heirs of Wizengamot members often knew quite a bit about what was going on, it was after all a way to prepare them for their own time. Padma personally hadn't known anything about this, why wasn't the Daily Prophet mentioning it?

Oh. Ministry controlled. She swallowed nervously, this meeting was taking a rather sinister turn.

"But I'm probably just reading too much into these coincidences, it probably means nothing."

His whimsical voice made it very clear to everyone that he thought the opposite.

"There's of course another strange thing I think should be mentioned. Susan, isn't it strange that your aunt has been requesting a larger budget and a stronger force for the past year, her Aurors being swamped by the sudden surge in crime, yet she has been turned down every single time?"

Padma noticed that Bones looked surprisingly focused, none of the usual stuttering and stammering as she answered.

"Yes Harry, it is rather strange."

He nodded in agreement.

"Hmm, so it wasn't just me. Isn't it also just a tad bit strange that it's Lucius Malfoy who has been advising our dear Minister Fudge to cut these budgets? All in the interest of the Ministry I'm sure. Even stranger is that he seems unusually focused on reducing the cost of maintaining Azkaban, leading to a rather heavy reduction in the Auror force stationed there."

He glanced at Longbottom as he finished the sentence and Padma was shocked to see barely controlled rage in Longbottom's eyes, his hand squeezing his wand so tightly that she was afraid it would snap. The emotion looked so alien on the usually meek boy that she had trouble looking away. Longbottom clearly knew something, something they didn't.

"Of course, that leads me full circle back to the rather strange thing occurring here at Hogwarts. I'm certain most of you purebloods, and even some of the half-blooded people here, practice your magic quite a bit during the holidays. After all, the Ministry of Magic can't monitor what goes on under your wards. Tutors or just parents teaching their children is quite common. The muggleborn students however lack this option, being entirely at the mercy of Hogwarts to teach them everything they should know."

She heard Granger gasp in outrage, guess she didn't know about that.

"Thus, isn't it just a bit strange that the Ministry would send their most bigoted, inept and incompetent teacher to instruct you in probably the most important subject you will ever need to learn. Especially in the subject that revolves around defending yourself, right at the time when this dark activity has been rising at an alarming rate."

A cold shiver ran down her back. Potter's humorous tone only made the message he was sending more disheartening. Coincidence her ass.

"Potter." She swallowed nervously to clear her throat.

"Harry. What are you saying?"

He looked back at her and just spread his hands in mock innocence.

"Saying? Oh I'm not saying anything, I'm just speculating a bit. Although if I were to be saying something, the underlying message would be that my time is valuable, yet the time you spend here learning from me will probably turn out to be even more precious to you. After all, you never know when you might need to.. _defend yourself against the dark arts_."

Great. Just great. So much for just preparing for her OWLs. She looked at the other students, seeing troubled frowns on almost every face. More than one letter would be sent home today, the majority of them going directly to some very important people.

'This should be interesting' Lisa had said. Well she certainly hit the nail on the head with that comment.


	10. Merry Christmas!

_**A/N**__: thanks for the reviews, and Hawa_DL, if you find any typos, feel free to inform me so I can correct them. This is my first fic and English isn't my primary language so I'm always looking to improve it._

**Chapter 10: Merry Christmas!**

She felt hungry eyes on them the second they entered, mentally undressing them like they were toys for their pleasure. Tracey Davis shuddered as she walked to their usual corner with Daphne. It was getting worse every day. Daphne was as cold and stoic as ever, sending cold sneers at anyone that was too obvious in their staring, but the effect was diminishing. They were getting cockier. She wanted to hurl when she saw the lecherous grin on Pucey's face as he blatantly ogled them.

Thank Merlin Christmas was approaching, she really wanted to get out of this place. She had been confused by the increased aggression until she heard Harry's speech all those months ago. Suddenly things started to make sense, the increased swagger from Malfoy, the increased harassment and the unending cockiness shown by the notable purebloods. Tracey knew their parents were under pressure as well, neutrality was clearly not taken kindly, the mentality seemed to be 'either with us or against us'.

She had it especially bad just because her grandfather had married a muggleborn woman after his wife passed away. It did nothing to affect her so called blood purity, but he had still been labeled a blood traitor and his stigma carried on to the rest of the family. At times she was unreasonably angry at him, even if she rationally knew that it was wrong to blame him. But his actions had made her life so much harder, she was suddenly seen as a second class citizen among the other purebloods when they heard their reputation. She was honestly really learning to hate the pureblood agenda. Feeling uncomfortable in the room she lowered her voice, keeping her eyes on the people around them.

"Daph, maybe we should go to my room?"

Daphne glanced at all the hostile eyes, her frosty mask still in place.

"No Trace, if we are seen as hiding then it just becomes more likely they will try something."

Tracey silently cursed but agreed with her logic, but that didn't help her feel any better about the oppressive atmosphere in the room, like a ticking bomb just waiting to go off. She didn't even understand their retarded agenda to begin with, only a fanatic could believe in it. Malfoy preached on about how it was time for the purebloods to take 'back' the power. When had they even lost it to begin with? Purebloods were in control of every aspect of the magical world, they held the seats in the Wizengamot and occupied almost every single head of department post at the Ministry.

Merlin's sagging balls, even when Lucius Malfoy was on trial for murder, conspiracy and treason along with a whole list of crimes, he was still released based on his word alone. Well, his word and a lot of money carefully thrown around. No magical oath, no testimony under Veritaserum, just his word. Hell, the only people actually convicted after the First Wizarding War were the fanatics who flat out confessed and took pride in their crimes. And they complained that they didn't have enough power? Even the economy itself revolved around the richest pureblooded families. They had their fingers in all the pies, even education, manning every seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

Their stance on muggleborn and muggles was also either flat out dumb or not thought out at all. The idea that they were 'stealing their magic' made no sense, there had been muggleborn around since the times of the founders, Merlin, probably even longer. If they were stealing magic they would probably have finished by now. The idea of killing them was also shortsighted, did they not understand how many jobs were being done by those who didn't have a rich pureblooded family to fall back on? They would be killing all the grunt workers, all the waiters, hard workers and paper pushers. Who would be doing those jobs if they killed them all? The house elves? She wanted to snort at the ridiculous thought but the whole thing was just depressing.

The idea of killing or controlling the muggles was also a relic from ancient times. They had no concept of how many there were and how advanced they were. Oh sure, there was a possibility they would succeed, she would never discount the power of magic, but they had to be delusional if they thought it would be one smooth transition. The muggles would fight back and there would be blood on every magical street. Idiots. She looked at students in the room and almost felt pity, it wasn't even their agenda to begin with. It was their parents pushing it on them. Who had had it pushed on them in their time. A circle of stupidity.

"Finally."

Daphne's soft exclamation made her glance towards the door, exhaling in relief. Harry had arrived.

He attracted all pairs of eyes, as usual. Yet unlike others he showed no hesitation or discomfort at all the hateful glares and muttered insults. It was strange how he could waltz through what was basically enemy territory and look like he was taking a casual stroll through any convenience store, contently looking around at the barely constricted threat that loomed around him.

She really was happy to see him arrive, they had been spending a lot of time around him. Well, as much time as you can spend with someone who seems to completely disappear for hours at a time. At first they were hesitant, he was an unknown factor and they both knew he was practically one big walking secret. Yet his company had been pleasant and he seemed to enjoy spending time with them, a feeling that was mutual. Of course, as an added benefit being near him also seemed to make other Slytherins wary about approaching them.

They had suspected from the start that he was a powerhouse, either political, economical or magical. They however hadn't been expecting him to attempt to top all three categories, wielding his words with the same ease as he wielded his wand. Harry had however seemed incredibly high strung during the first few months, speaking few words and seeming twitchy at all times. His constant migraines hadn't been helping his mood.

Then one weekend, soon before he had started teaching DADA, he had disappeared. When he came back it was like a different man. Calmer, more composed, more in control, hell, even cracking jokes. He didn't tell them what happened and they didn't ask, but they both knew something significant had occurred.

His lessons were, well, in a word, excellent. He never bothered with any theory or dueling policy, he was flat out teaching them to fight. No spell was dirty enough and no trick underhanded enough for him. He cared little about honor or bravery in when it came to magical fighting, the only thing that mattered to him was winning. Distraction and deception seemed to be some of his favorite words. 'Honor wont help you when you lie there drowning in your own blood as someone butchers your family'. It was cold, even brutal, but very motivating.

They constantly fought each other with harmless spells while practicing the destructive ones on dummies. Longbottom especially seemed to take to his lessons like a fish to water, who knew 'the squib' could be hiding so much power? Well, Harry had obviously known if Longbottom's transformation during the year was anything to go by. Just another mystery to add to the list of the enigma that was Harry Potter.

"Hello ladies."

"Hey Harry."

"Hello Harry."

They didn't ask him where he had been and he didn't say. It was a sort of unspoken agreement. She never did fail to notice that regardless of his seemingly carefree attitude, he always sat with his back against a corner or a wall, never leaving it exposed. Deception indeed.

"Any trouble?"

She shook her head.

"Nah, just the usual looks."

He hummed in return before pulling out his tome. The tome that no one else could apparently read. Secrets upon secrets. Still, there was something trustworthy about him. Especially compared to the boys in their House. Sure, she had caught him giving appreciative glances to both of them, but unlike the Slytherins', they weren't the hungry lecherous type. And it wasn't like they hadn't returned the favor, he was after all very easy on the eyes. Still, she knew they had nothing to fear from him. If the guy wanted to get laid there was certainly no shortage of offers, she had to refrain from rolling her eyes whenever they walked through the school corridors together, catching blushing faces and cow eyes at every corner.

Feeling eyes on her she turned towards the far corner, only to see Adrian Pucey leering at her. She suppressed a flinch, instead giving him a sneer. His grin only widened as he stood up and started walking towards her. Ugh, not what she needed right now. The boy, or well, man, was a complete idiot. Seventh year chaser for Slytherin, already dubbed the second coming of Flint. Flint had been forced to retake his last year at Hogwarts for failing too many classes, Pucey was on the same path. It didn't help that they had the same body type, large and burly, suitable for the tactic Slytherin usually employed in their Quidditch games. Mindlessly ram their opponents until they were too crippled to put up a fight.

The common room grew quiet as he reached their table, no doubt because people had noticed his approach and wanted to hear the conversation. He loomed over the table, towering over her sitting form, making her silently curse her short stature.

"Hello there beautiful, I noticed you looking at me."

She fingered her wand, hidden in her sleeve, trying to not show intimidated she felt.

"You mean, you were leering at me until I noticed you."

He leaned even closer, staring at her chest before looking into her eyes, his foul breath making her cringe away into the backrest of the chair.

"Come now Davis, there's no need to be rude, I'm just trying to be friendly here."

She hesitantly glanced at Harry, but he seemed to be calmly reading his tome without a care in the world. Neither she nor Daphne knew if he would actually come to their aid if it came down to trouble. He was powerful, they knew that from their DADA meetings, but they weren't sure how dangerous he really was. They hadn't failed to notice how Snape seemed to be utterly ignoring him after his mysterious collapse in the Potions class. They had also speculated on how convenient it was that Umbridge had happened to fall down a set of stairs just before his detention, the first one he had ever had.

She considered them tentative friends but that didn't mean he would stick his neck out for them.

Calming her nerves she looked right back at him, squeezing her wand tightly.

"How about you piss off and leave me alone, I'm not interested."

He acted before she could react, a strong hand clamping down on her wand arm, locking it in place. The pain forced a small sound out of her throat.

"Now now Davis, a little blood traitor shouldn't be acting so uppity, I might be forced to-"

He suddenly paled, looking down. Daphne's wand was resting right against his crotch, her blue eyes colder than she had ever seen.

"Diffin-"

Pucey leapt away before she could finish the incantation, pulling out his own wand in panic.

"What the fuck you crazy bitch!? A Severing Charm!?"

Daphne's tone was as cold as her expression.

"Nothing of value would have been lost."

Tracey felt a surge of warmth for her best friend stepping up to defend her. Pucey's expression however turned murderous as he pointed his wand at them.

"You little sluts should learn your place, your time is coming."

"Indeed Greengrass, you should stay out of matters that don't concern you."

She mentally groaned at the new voice, figures Malfoy would use the opportunity to pounce. He strutted up with his two stooges, clearly eager to be in the spotlight. Daphne's tone remained unchanged.

"Anything that concerns Tracey concerns me, how about you take her suggestion and just piss off before you become the last heirs of your houses."

Malfoy sneered as Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles, moving up to flank them.

"Times are changing Greengrass, it would be wise if you understood that now."

"No, what would be truly prudent of the four of you, would be to move along and stop disturbing my reading."

Six pairs of eyes turned towards Harry, still lounging in his chair reading his tome. The brief silence was broken by the sound of parchment as he turned the page. Malfoy smirked, his smug voice carrying in the quiet common room.

"You should stay out of this Potter, you have no idea what you're interfering with, you don't understand what's coming."

Harry looked up, humor glinting his eyes.

"And you do?" He asked rhetorically.

"Don't answer that Malfoy, I already know you don't. You are the worst kind of fool, one who thinks he understands when in fact he knows nothing."

Tracey tensed, this was clearly no longer about her and Daphne. This confrontation had been a long time coming, building up during the entire year, they had merely been the catalysts. Malfoy wanted to be the absolute king in Slytherin, but the complete disregard Harry had for his authority always pitted them against each other. He usually ignored him though, but this time they were heading for a collision. Malfoy was flushed with anger, the boy couldn't handle being insulted at all.

"I'm the fool? You will be joining your filthy mudblood of a mother soon enough Potter, you should watch your mouth and enjoy the time you have left."

Harry closed his tome with a snap.

"Oh and who will be sending me to join her? You? 'The Prince of Slytherin'?" His tone was mocking now.

"A pathetic little child who flaunts his father's power like it was his own, not realizing that he isn't building respect for himself but rather for his father. You are the useless crotch fruit of a sniveling coward that spent half of his life kissing the feet of stronger men, and it clearly shows."

Malfoy drew his wand, rage etched on his face.

"Shut your mouth Potter!"

Harry's smirk was even wider now.

"Does it hurt you to know that even without our family names, I would still be a strong wizard with the potential of achieving any future, where as you would be destined to replace Filch as the Hogwarts caretaker?"

Malfoy's response was a shouted "Diffindo", prompting Pucey to raise his wand as Crabby and Goyle charged him. Yet before Tracey could even comprehend what was happening, Harry was standing with his wand out, batting the Severing Charm into the wall. Crabbe and Goyle were both sent flying by an overpowered Banishment Charm, smashing them into a bookcase on the far wall. Malfoy's eyes barely had time to widen before a Crushing Hex smashed into his hand, shattering the fine bones into a pulp along with his wand. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, his scream of agony bouncing against the walls. Harry easily sidestepped Pucey's Stunning Spell before nailing him in the gut with a vivid red spell she had never seen before, causing him to violently expel his breath before crumpling to the ground, clutching his stomach with an expression of pain. A second, she thought. That's how long it took.

The only sounds in the room were the small grunts of pain, overshadowed by the screeching of Malfoy as he clutched his ruined appendage, rolling around on the floor in pain. Harry was utterly unscathed as he calmly walked up to the wailing blond, stowing his wand in the process. A small gasp went through the room as he deliberately stepped on the ruined hand, watching apathetically as Malfoy tried to pull it away, tears leaking down his face as he screamed.

"Where is your father now Malfoy? Where is his power? Where is his money? Why isn't he saving you?"

He pressed down harder on the hand and she flinched at the sounds of broken bones shattering further, the soft pops and cracks sending shivers down her spine.

"Weaklings that rely on the power of others will always remain weaklings. You are an insect to me Malfoy. A useless little gnat that I can step on whenever I please. You. Are. Nothing."

He looked at the rest of the room, his green eyes glowing in the candlelight.

"You are fools. You think that your names will protect you forever. You think that your money will protect you."

His voice dropped down to a whisper, but everyone could hear it.

"You think that the Dark Lord will protect you."

No. No! No, she didn't want to believe it. But the shocked eyes and the way even Malfoy stopped screaming for a second told her everything she needed to know. Even Malfoy knew. Oh they had speculated upon what Harry had been hinting at during their DADA meetings, but they refused to believe it. Maybe it was just an uprising. Maybe it was just a coincidence after all. But he had confirmed it now, confirmed the worst fear of many... _he_ was back.

Harry removed his foot from Malfoy's hand and she audibly swallowed as she saw torn mess that was left behind. His flat tone was haunting.

"This war wont be like the last one. There will be no pardons, no pitiful excuses. People are tired of the fighting. People are tired of letting butchers go. Choose carefully when your time comes, because this time you wont be just risking your reputation, you will be risking your lives."

With that he walked out of the common room, leaving an eerie silence. Daphne jerked on her sleeve and she quickly nodded, it was definitively time to bail to their room.

She collapsed on her bed with a sigh, she had been so happy to finally go home for the Christmas holidays, looking forward to it for months. But now... now she would need to inform her 'blood traitor' family that You-Know-Who was back. Merry Christmas indeed.


	11. And a happy new year!

**Chapter 11: And a happy New Year!  
**

Harry Potter stretched contently as he walked down to breakfast, his mind at ease. It had been a good Christmas holiday, his casting was steadily improving and he felt his physical fitness was increasing at a good pace. The fact that it was a Saturday just helped his mood, it was another two days before had to deal with the useless classes. Even the shade in his mind had stayed quiet, leaving him in relative peace ever since he absorbed the diadem Horcrux months ago. He wasn't sure what the reason was, but he was not one to complain from the break in crippling headaches. Even Filch's sour face did nothing to spoil his mood, the squib glaring at him like he had killed his cat just because he was smiling. Merlin, the man was so uptight that if he shoved a coal up his ass and showed him a Playwizard he'd have a diamond.

He sat down in his usual spot at the Slytherin table, grabbing a scone from the tray. Even the atmosphere in the school seemed more relaxed, the break had clearly done a lot to help the tension. He buttered his scone as the owls carrying the Daily Prophet arrived, not paying too much attention to the daily occurrence. A series of gasps interrupted his thoughts as a quiet murmur spread across the Great Hall. He looked up in surprise, watching students heatedly reading the paper. He scanned the worried faces and frowned, the members of his DADA group were shooting him glances while Longbottom was clutching the paper so tightly it looked like he was going to tear it to pieces. Looking to his left he saw the barely hidden smiles on some of the Slytherins as they scanned the front page. Uh-oh. Somewhat hesitantly he reached for his copy, spreading it out in front of him.

His mind froze as he saw the front page. A sense of total disbelief overcame him. Harry didn't know how long he just sat there, frozen like a statue, staring at the haunting headline.

'_Mass breakout from Azkaban!_'

His scone lay forgotten as he desperately tried to make his brain work again. Impossible. It should not have been possible. Denial and confusion warred in his head as he tried to make sense of it all. He abruptly stood up, feeling like the very air was choking him. Suffocating him. He needed to get out. He needed to get air. He marched out of the Great Hall, barely noticing the stares he was attracting. He ignored the heated conversations that exploded behind him as he walked out of the castle into the cold morning air, taking great heaving breaths.

How? He had been so certain Voldemort wouldn't be able to act for at least another six months. So convinced his weakened ritual would in turn leave him weakened, forcing him to recuperate for a long time. Everything he had planned had hinged on it. Get his OWLs, petition Gringotts to give him access to Bellatrix's vault as the Head of the House Black and finally get his hands on the cup. The Horcrux. It was the sole reason he had spent the last four months at the school. Now Bellatrix was free, able to enter her vault at any time and retrieve what he wanted. What he needed. What he had to retrieve. The goblins cared little about wizarding politics, opting to stay neutral at all times, they wouldn't oppose a notorious dark witch accessing her own vault, why would they care about her crimes against other wizards.

How could he possibly have miscalculated this badly? How could he have been so utterly wrong? He had been so certain, so confident, so self-assured in his plan. His scrambled thoughts were interrupted by a sudden surge of confidence and assurance, filling him to the brim. What? Why would he be feeling-

A soft hissing laughter echoed in his mind, spreading dread across his entire being. Harry froze, his eyes widening in shock. He scarcely dared to breathe. Voldemort. He suddenly understood, suddenly comprehended his utter folly. Like a fool he had thought that the shade in his mind would merely feed his negative emotions, adding to his rage, feeding on his fear and spreading his paranoia. But he had made the one mistake he often accused others of making. He had underestimated his enemy. Underestimated one of the greatest manipulators of all time. The shade had been feeding his positive emotions in secret. Feeding him confidence and bolstering his arrogance, working like the parasite he was, directing him towards foolish decisions, while deftly hiding it all behind the negative emotions it would openly push on him.

Rage and fear blossomed in his mind. How much of his plan was compromised? How much of it was directed by the shadow? How could he rely on anything he had envisioned? He was an idiot. He had been played like a pawn, maneuvered like a puppet on a set of strings. Harry roared in rage, smashing his fist against the unyielding castle wall, punching it over and over again, barely noticing the pain that spread across his knuckles as the skin tore.

No. He stopped. It fed on rage and fear. It gained strength from it. Panicking never helped anyone. He forcibly calmed his breathing, absently healing the broken skin with a flick of his wand, not caring about the ache that remained. Giving up was not an option. He needed to think. He needed to clear his mind of the vile filth that shuddered in amusement. His Occlumency rose up to full strength, silencing the whispering voice, but it was not enough. He needed to free his mind from its tendrils as he figured out how to counter this problem. How to salvage what could be saved.

With that thought in mind he pulled out his invisibility cloak, hiding his body from view before marching back into the castle, his destination the Gryffindor common room. Harry wove through the milling students, dipping through shortcuts when necessary, reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady in minutes. He patiently waited for a group of first years to enter, slipping in behind them, moving through the password protected entrance unnoticed. He quickly spotted the person he needed right now. The person he craved to ease his mind.

Hidden underneath his cloak he sat down on the sofa next to Lavender, who seemed to be caught in a gossiping session with Parvati. She turned around and frowned, no doubt wondering why the seat shifted. He calmly placed his hand on her thigh, making her jump in surprise. She quickly glanced under the table to make sure no one was there before turning to the empty space next to her.

"Harry?" Her soft whisper was barely audible and he squeezed her thigh in answer. Her expression melted into a sultry smile instead, it was hardly the first time she had seen him turn invisible. Parvati asked her something and she turned back to her friend, leaving him with free reign. That was an offer he gladly accepted, quietly easing his hand underneath her school skirt, placing it directly on her bare leg. Hiding his movement underneath the table he started gently caressing her smooth skin, forcing his mind to focus on nothing but the sensation. His gentle motions made her spread her legs just a tad more, giving him better access. He grinned underneath the cloak, she was always very willing to try new things. Regardless of her faults one could never accuse of her not being fun to be around.

Her breath hitched when he gently trailed a line up her pale inner thigh right to her panties, his featherlight touches starting to trace the contours of the silky lace. He could feel the distraction working, thoughts of Azkaban and Voldemort slipping away as he focused on the slowly building heat underneath his fingertips. Seconds soon became minutes, causing a light blush to spread down her cheeks to her neck, her pattern of breathing changing. The slightly labored pants just made him work harder. Applying more pressure directly against the soft heat he started rubbing his fingers in circles, drawing a small groan from her lips.

"Are you all right Lav? You look flushed." Parvati asked.

She hastily stood up, letting his hand slip away.

"Yeah, of course! I just, uh, remembered that I forgot my charms notes in the library!"

"Oh, you want some company?"

"No! Uh, no, it's fine, I'll just go get them real quick."

Parvati shot a puzzled look at her back as she marched towards the common room entrance. Harry suppressed a grin and followed her out, trailing behind her in the hallway. As soon there was no one around he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the nearest broom closet. He pulled off his cloak and barely had time to properly spell the door shut before he was jumped by a very willing witch. He gladly reciprocated, kissing her deeply as he pushed her against the wall. He dimly noted that she tasted like oranges, no doubt from her breakfast. Taking a moment to catch his breath he grinned.

"Someone's eager."

"Your fault." She growled, kissing him again as her hands snaked into his robes, deft hands opening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Not one to sit idly while she did all the work, he bunched up her skirt around her waist, slipping his hands into her silky white panties and pulling them off in one go. He groaned against her mouth as her skilled hands gripped him, eagerly pulling him towards her. He grabbed her firm bum in his hands as she guided him home, the almost scaldingly hot heat making him hiss in pleasure. Her long legs wrapped around his hips as he started pushing her against the wall, groans echoing in the enclosed space. His mind blanked out as he buried himself to the hilt in her tight core.

Harry could feel the way the shade in his mind wriggled in discomfort before retreating, the long tendrils that it always attempted to push deeper withdrawing. Like a cockroach with the light turned on, or a snake caught in the cold rain it fled, hiding deeper in his mind. Lavender's soft breath against his ear, her aroused breasts against his chest as he drilled her into the wall felt even better. A sudden clarity shot through his senses, like a fog withdrawing, letting him think clearly for the first time in what felt like weeks. Plans were made and instantly discarded, one after another at an ever increasing pace. His options had decreased drastically with Voldemort's sudden move, limiting him severely. He had merely days before the cup would be out of reach, merely days before his goals were rendered unattainable. What to do, what to do? He took out his frustration on the moaning girl in front of him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded her.

A foolish plan came to mind. A daring plan. A plan any Slytherin would scoff at for being too risky, too audacious, yet the part of him that would have been sorted into Gryffindor based on his sheer recklessness roared in approval at it. The risks were huge, the dangers unthinkable, the variables too many to accurately predict. But... if he succeeded he would complete his hunt for the Horcruxes within the week. He growled into Lavender's mouth, her panting moans turning into a shuddering shout as he felt her convulse against him, riding out her own release. He followed suit, burying himself deep in the willing girl before letting loose all of his anger and frustration, flooding her quivering body.

He leaned against her, propping himself up against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm his wildly beating heart.

"What was that all about?" She asked, still out of breath.

"Just had some frustration to work out."

She snorted shakily.

"Yeah, I noticed that."

He grinned in return, kissing her one last time before releasing her and pulling up his pants.

"Thanks for that babe, I really needed it, got important matters I got to deal with now."

She huffed, adjusting her own skirt.

"That's easy for you to say, you don't have to spend half an hour sorting out your hair and makeup while coming up with an excuse that explains why it took you almost an hour to retrieve a notebook."

"You'll think of something." He laughed before donning his invisibility cloak and slipping out of the broom closet.

The moment he left the broom closet behind him his smile slipped from his face, a calculative glint appearing in his eyes. Bellatrix would still be weakened from her stay in the prison, it would take her at least a few days to recuperate from that ordeal before Voldemort would allow her to infiltrate the bank. A few days before she could risk slipping past the Auror force that was no doubt posted there now. Voldemort had attacked Azkaban on a Friday night, clever, the younger aurors were either out getting drunk or sleeping, but that left him with a whole weekend to work with.

Cold calculated fury had replaced his earlier anger, his new plan coming into sharp focus. He rarely flexed his political power, rarely worked his influence, rarely showed them his true self. There was a lot one could do over a weekend. A feral grin grew on his face, it was time he showed the world a glimpse of the real Harry Potter.


	12. Tea, Minister?

**Chapter 12: Tea, Minister?**

Cornelius Fudge rubbed his temples as he looked at the steadily growing pile of papers in front of him. This day had started out bad and seemed intent on ending even worse. He had been woken at four am by a panicking Auror, telling him that Azkaban had been attacked. In his sleep addled state he had merely stared at the man blankly, dearly hoping he was still dreaming. Yet the nightmare was real and as the news piled in it just became worse. The Lestranges, Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber, Travers were just among some of the names reported missing. He had raged at Amelia Bones for her incompetence, but the dumb woman had coldly told him it was his fault for cutting her budget. Merlin, couldn't the woman understand he had been doing it for the good of the Ministry. Even Lucius agreed with the necessity of the budget cuts.

Of course the day only became worse when the Daily Prophet arrived. He had been trying to keep them from writing about the escape, but the news was simply too big to cover up. His poor secretary had been bombarded by howlers all day, she had the unfortunate job of opening them. Rather her than him, he was the Minister after all. After the paper broke the news, one Lord or Lady after another had been running into his office to shout and complain. He shivered, Augusta Longbottom had looked like she wanted to castrate him on the spot.

Why couldn't he have some convenient scapegoat to blame this on. Dumbledore had been so useful during the Sirius Black debacle, taking all the fault and blame. He considered pushing it on Amelia, but the woman was sharp, if she had even saved one of her budget requests she could sink his argument in the making. Even worse was that Lucius had been missing all day, he could really use some good advice right now.

A knock on the door made him groan, he really didn't feel like listening to another old hag shout at him right now.

"Sir, a white owl brought a letter for you."

He frowned, so what, he had been getting letters all day.

"It's carrying the Potter wax seal."

His eyes widened in surprise, this he hadn't been expecting!

"Bring it to me!"

He greedily snatched the letter out of her hands, absently noticing her leaving the room as he tore it open. Cornelius felt a glimmer of hope burn in his chest as he read the neat script. Potter wanted to meet him, right now if possible. If he could get the Boy-Who-Lived on his side then he could weather the current crisis without suffering a too significant hit to his ratings. Merlin, a joint press conference with the two of them would work wonders to enhance his public image. He glanced at the clock, it was almost eight pm. He really couldn't afford to leave his desk at the moment, but the potential this meeting had was worth it. The boy clearly wasn't afraid to use his right as a Lord in training to leave the castle during the weekends.

He quietly chuckled at the fact that Potter asked him to keep their meeting a secret. His undersecretary, that Umbridge woman, had told him all about the foolish boy and his incredible arrogance. He briefly entertained the idea of asking a Daily Prophet reporter to accompany him, but discarded it, he couldn't afford to have the boy against him right now.

Cornelius smiled as he reached for his coat, let the boy have his fun, he would keep it quiet. If the boy wanted to feel important by having secret meetings with the Minister then he would indulge him. Right until he could get them in front of a reporter while shaking hands. As he was leaving he glanced at the letter, feeling a sudden urge to take it with him. He frowned slightly but pocketed it anyway, the directions to their meeting place would come in handy if he forgot.

"I'm going home now Doris, you can leave as soon as you are done with the letters."

His secretary stared at the huge pile of letters on her desk with distaste, she would probably be there for hours. Not his problem, that was what he was paying her for.

"Very well, Sir."

He sniffed slightly at her crude tone, the girl should be grateful for being allowed to work for the Minister. Whatever, he had more important matters on his mind now. He vaguely greeted the milling people as he navigated through them, not wanting to be stopped by anyone wishing to 'discuss' the Azkaban matter. He had had quite enough of that, thank you very much.

Cornelius glanced at the letter Potter had sent one more time, the meeting place the boy had picked was a small muggle coffee shop fairly close to the Diagon Alley entrance. Well, at least he wouldn't have to walk far. He took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, making sure his coat hid most of his face as he stepped out of the fireplace. The nonstop howlers he had been receiving all day told him all he needed to know about the public reaction to the prison escape, letting them voice their anger face to face was definitively not a part of his plan for today.

He exhaled in relief when he noticed the pub was completely empty, no doubt because the people were hesitant to move in the open with the recent escapees on the lose. Slipping out of the pub he was met with the same desolation in Diagon Alley, people were afraid to leave their homes. Merlin, this was going to wreak havoc on his ratings. He felt a tinge of longing for his personal Auror guard but quickly discarded it, only a fool would attack the Minister of Magic.

Pulling his wand out he opened the entrance to the muggle world, casting a quick Glamour Charm on his clothes in the process, hiding his robes under the illusion of a stylish striped tweed suit. A transfiguration would have been better but he had never quite succeeded in those, not everyone could be a Merlin reincarnate after all. He noticed some of the stares he was attracting and smiled, even the muggles could appreciate a fashionable man.

The coffee shop soon came into view, it looked like a place for couples to meet. The booths were clearly separated and mostly filled with muggle couples, kissing and flirting. He looked around before spotting a young man in the far corner waving him over. His casual muggle clothes had thrown him off briefly, but Cornelius soon recognized him as Potter, his face still similar to the one he had seen the Daily Prophet snap during the Christmas holidays. Cornelius walked over, feeling a bit of indignation at his casual dress. He huffed, his undersecretary had warned him about his arrogance after all, he should have been expecting it. Swallowing his frown he instead plastered a wide smile on his face as he approached the boy. Offering his hand he was pleased to see Potter shake it, if only he could have a photographer here right now.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Minister."

"Ah, Harry my boy, the pleasure is all mine, I have been looking forward to talking to you for quite a while."

Potter smiled, waving towards a seat in the secluded booth.

"Please sit down sir, you look like you have had a long day."

Cornelius gladly accepted that offer, it was relaxing to sit down in a place where he knew he wouldn't be ambushed by some angry Lord. Potter lifted the tea pot that had been sitting on the table, offering him a cup.

"Tea, Minister?"

"Yes, that actually sounds quite good right now."

Cornelius watched the boy pour him a cup, his plastered smile slowly turning into a real one. His head might be inflated but at least Potter knew to be polite. He sipped the offered tea, it was a bit too sweet for his taste but anything hot felt quite good after a trek in the chilly weather.

"So Harry, how can I be of assistance?"

Potter hesitated a bit before answering.

"Well, uh, sir, there are a few problems I could use some help with."

Cornelius fought to contain his smirk, this meeting was already turning out much better than he expected.

"Oh? Do tell."

"Well, with this recent Azkaban trouble I've been a bit worried about my friends."

"Ah my boy, there is nothing to worry about, I can assure you the Ministry has the issue well in hand."

Potter smiled at his reassurance.

"Of course sir, but I still can't help worrying. What I was wondering was, if it was possible for you to perhaps give them an exemption from the underage casting decree?"

Cornelius frowned.

"Who would these friends be?"

"Oh, uh, Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones, sir."

His eyes lit up, Longbottom and Bones. Amelia Bones and Augusta Longbottom had been on his back all day, granting this small boon to their family might help placate their anger a bit. He could even spin it for the press, come across as the progressive Minister making every effort to protect their youth.

"Well, my boy, you should have mentioned that from the start! I have no problem granting this little request, but you would of course have to accompany your friends to the Ministry tomorrow to receive the exemption. Say, around eight in the morning?"

Cornelius grinned, eight in the morning was the time when most the workers arrived, ensuring many pairs of eyes would see him interact with the three children. He could even explain the press showing up as a coincidence as they usually showed up at that time to interview various Wizengamot members. He could already envision tomorrow's front page, a picture of him shaking hands with Potter while Bones and Longbottom stood in the background.

"That's great! I'll be sure to tell them."

Cornelius chuckled, he might have just ensured his next term as Minister.

"Umm, sir, there is another matter if I may?"

"Go on."

"Well, I have been a bit concerned about Professor Umbridge. I'm not really certain she is the best person to teach the students."

"Oh, well that is unfortunate. Don't worry my boy, I'll be certain to look into this matter."

Potter smiled again, seeming relieved. Cornelius swallowed a snort, fool boy. He had personally sent Umbridge to the school to keep an eye on Dumbledore as well as the students. She was an excellent source of information and her work at undermining the old Headmaster was very valuable, he had no intentions of removing her.

"Umm, if I could ask one more thing sir?"

Cornelius waved him to get on with it, it didn't really matter what the boy asked, he already had what he needed. A guaranteed frontpage with the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Well I've been hoping to take my OWLs for some time, I was wondering if it was possible that you could maybe arrange something?"

He made a show of considering it.

"Well, I can't promise anything of course, these matters are out of my hands, but I could always ask around in the Department of Education if we maybe could arrange something."

"Thank you Minister!"

He refrained from rolling his eyes, he hadn't actually promised anything. He had personally blocked the boy from taking the exams after all, Lucius had been very supportive in that matter. Deciding to end this meeting before the boy came up with any more inane requests, he swallowed the rest of his tea and stood up, offering his hand. Potter appeared startled but quickly shook it.

"Well this has been a very pleasant meeting Harry, but sadly as the Minister of Magic I am very pressed for time. I'll be seeing you tomorrow for the exemption certificates. Eight o'clock sharp, don't forget now."

"I won't! Thank you so much sir!"

"Don't worry about it my boy, it is after all the job of the Minister to look out for his people."

Cornelius fought the urge to break out in dance as he left the small shop, his career had probably just been saved. Dipping into an alley he Disapparated on the spot, appearing outside his lavish manor. Malfoy's contributions to his career had been well spent. He whistled softly as he entered the house, this day hadn't turned out that awful after all.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Silence was his only answer and he huffed, his annoying wife was probably out with her friends again. She had wanted a divorce for quite some time, but that simply couldn't be allowed, he could only imagine what effect that would have on his ratings. The traditionalists would be in uproar if the Minister himself divorced.

He felt a light rumbling in his stomach and rubbed it in discomfort, probably shouldn't have skipped out on dinner just to avoid all the angry faces. Removing his coat he checked his pocket for Potter's letter, only to frown when his hand came up empty. He checked his other pockets only to find the same result, he must have lost it. Oh well, if some muggle found it they would merely think it was a foolish prank.

A small cramp in his stomach made him grunt, making him change his path from the dining room to his potions cabinet instead, something was clearly disagreeing with his digestive track. He yawned, feeling a bit drowsy, but quickly shook it off, there was still much he needed to do today. He would need to contact the Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless Network to make sure they showed up tomorrow, broadcasting his meeting with Potter to the world. He had a few suggestions for their headline, something like 'Minister and Boy-Who-Lived team up during troubled times' had a good ring to it.

Oh, that reminded him of the papers he needed to discreetly dispose off. He had been saving Amelia's constant requests for funding and manpower in case she tried to mount a coup as Lucius warned. While smart at the time, it now proved to be a huge liability in case the papers got out. That woman had been hounding him all year, complaining about everything from funding to muggle baiting. Honestly, who really cared if some muggles were roughed up, it wasn't like there was a shortage of them.

Another cramp ran through his abdomen, this time far stronger than the earlier ones, making him gasp in pain. Wiping his forehead he was surprised to feel clammy skin, sweat dripping down his neck. His heartbeat had been rising at a steady pace and now it felt like it was hammering in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears. A bout of nausea hit him, forcing him to his knees as he fought to control his gag reflex. What in Merlin's name was going on? He drew a labored breath, feeling like his chest was beeing squeezed. The suffocating pressure kept mounting and he started to panic as the pain in his chest increased. His heart. The pumping in his ears was overpowering now, the erratic heartbeat drawing a strangled groan of pain from his throat. He crawled towards the potions cabinet, but didn't really know what potion he should take to begin with.

A shuddering gasp left his lungs as his heart suddenly gave out, stopping in its tracks. A sense of disbelief overtook him as he felt his eyelids start to droop, he was the Minister of Magic, how could this happen!?

With a last twitch he stilled, darkness clouding his eyes as his lifeless body slumped to the floor.


	13. Blood is thicker than water

**Chapter 13: Blood is thicker than water**

Amelia Bones was confused as she looked at the day's Daily Prophet. It was a state of mind she was quickly learning to hate. The events that had passed during this past weekend seemed surreal, her entire life had been turned on its head in just the span of three days.

It had all started with the Azkaban nightmare, she couldn't remember the last time she had been as furious. Eight of her own Aurors dead, killed during the attack. There should have been sixteen manning the prison at all times, but Fudge's idiotic budget cuts had crippled their security. Merlin, she had been so tempted to hex to little fool when he tried to blame her. She was actually hoping he would attempt to foist the blame on her, she had ample records of her requests for additional manpower, it would crush him. In fact she was expecting him to do that. Amelia was no fool, she knew that underneath the weak bumbling exterior, Cornelius hid a cunning politician. There was a reason he had attained the Minister's seat, and it most certainly was not because of his magical prowess.

The entire debacle had still been confusing though, why had such a large contingent of Dementors left the prison? Why had they not defended it? She had only one viable explanation to that question and it sent shivers down her spine. No, she refused to believe it, there had to be another explanation, maybe they had simply been chased away.

When the Daily Prophet broke the news things just got worse for her department, they were suddenly flooded with protection requests from every single person who thought they held some importance. None of the fools seemed to realize how starved the DMLE was, there was no way they could assign personal guards to individual citizens when they were scrambling just to protect probable Ministry targets from the escapees. Just looking at the list of escaped convicts made her flinch, it was much worse than anything she had been hoping for. Should have just thrown them all through the veil and been done with it. But the corrupt Ministry would not allow for purebloods, especially ones without heirs, to simply be executed. Ridiculous.

But it was last night that the confusing weekend had taken a turn for the downright strange, as a calm Mrs Fudge had Floo called the Auror Department to inform them that she had found her husband dead in their home. Amelia instantly grabbed a squad of Aurors and Floo'd over to the Fudge residence, but her words had been true, the Minister was stone dead when they arrived. His wife's calm reaction had instantly made her suspicious, but even after ample investigation they could find no foul play. Mrs Fudge had an airtight alibi, having spent the evening with her friends, the wards showed no sign of tampering and the cause of death was clearly a heart attack. His toxicology scan showed up negative and even the magical scan showed nothing, not even the most basic of Heating Charms on his clothes, something that people usually used during the winter.

Talks with his secretary only revealed that he had received a letter from some Lord, she couldn't seem to quite recall his name, before calling an early day and heading home. Amelia frowned, she didn't want to speak ill of the dead, but going home early, even in the middle of a crisis like this, sounded very much like something Cornelius would do. Hide his head in the sand and pretend it wasn't happening. The man suffering a heart attack wasn't that far-fetched either, he had always had a temper, he was getting fairly old and the stress of the past day probably been immense for him.

Of course, keeping to the pattern of the weekend, things had only become more confusing after that. Auror Nymphadora Tonks received an anonymous tip about Fudge hiding confidential Ministry papers in his personal safe, hidden behind a painting in his bedroom. As the household was already under scrutiny for his death, the tip had to be investigated. What they found had been staggering, a whole trail of corruption listing various payments, as well as a stack of Ministry papers he had declined or worked against, including her own requests for funding and manpower. It was a shame the payments were listed under code names, otherwise she would have had a real gold mine on her hands. It might still prove to be useful evidence.

With the Ministry security being about as tight as a leaking broken sieve, it was only a matter of hours before the word got out. The Wizarding Wireless Network had spent all night discussing and arguing over the files and his death, speculating on whether or not the Azkaban incident could have been prevented. Her name had been mentioned multiple times, usually with a positive tint.

She had overnight gone from an unlikely temporary Minister candidate to a possible one. The emergency Wizengamot session to elect a new Minister had been scheduled for eleven am on the next day, exactly twelve hours after they had confirmed the previous Minister was dead.

Then the Sunday morning Daily Prophet arrived. She had woken up groggily this morning, the investigation into the Fudge incident had dragged well into the early morning, keeping her up half the night. She had gratefully accepted the cup of coffee from her house elf, grabbing a freshly baked bagel from the tray as the paper arrived. Amelia sipped the bitter brew as she unfolded it, looking at the predictable headline, '_Minister found dead_'. But when she scanned the rest of the page she coughed in surprise, choking on her drink. She cleared her throat, certain she was still dreaming, but reading it again showed it to be no hallucination or dream.

'_Boy-Who-Lived endorses Bones for Minister_' it read in big bold black letters. Wide eyed she read through the article, taking up the entire lower half of the front page and continuing for another few pages. Harry Potter, who had only written one letter to the press ever, to announce his Hogwarts attendance, had now unexpectedly sent another letter to them last night. It was the perfect endorsement, practically glowing with praise.

It read like a propaganda piece, yet was rooted entirely in fact. It highlighted her career, including mentions of her impeccable record, before focusing on the work she had put in as an Auror before rising to become a competent and hard working head of the DMLE. It then touched on the Bones family, briefly mentioning the illustrious history her house had. From there it transitioned into a sympathy piece, talking about the tragedy she had suffered through during the First Wizarding War, as You-Know-Who himself had killed her entire family. It ended with his firm conviction that their society needed a strong leader now, a war veteran versed in troubled times who could pull them through these hard times. He didn't even need to mention her requests for additional funding that had been denied by Fudge, the Daily Prophet had snapped up that story themselves.

She blinked in confusion when she finished the article, what the hell? Amelia had never even spoken to the boy, the only real knowledge she had about him was the glowing praise her niece Susan would give in her letters home. Yet now he had practically shoehorned her into the Minister's post.

The amount of brown-nosing she received when she walked into the Wizengamot chamber was unprecedented, people were clearly considering her a very likely candidate and covering all their bases. She snorted at that, she had never been that interested in politics, not being able to stomach all the underhanded tricks politicians constantly pulled. That had lead to her stern and unflinching reputation, which constantly irked the Dark families as they could never make her bend to their will.

The session had been surprisingly short, especially when the Light families tried to endorse Dumbledore as the Minister, only to have him decline as he always did. This was what, the third time? Dumbledore in turn had startled her by speaking out in her favor, choosing to move his considerable political power to back her. The reason for that soon became obvious when the Dark families announced Lucius Malfoy as their candidate. She understood Dumbledore's motives then, he had clearly known about this in advance and couldn't risk having that man sitting as the acting Minister. Where as Albus Dumbledore himself would have been a very likely candidate a decade ago, his reputation had been marred with a series of black marks that left his support far weaker than it once was. So he allied with her to fight the common foe, not willing the risk the chance of Malfoy gaining the seat.

Having Malfoy as her opponent also steadied her resolve. Where as she been uncertain about accepting the post earlier, she now knew that declining it would most likely lead to his victory. If there was one thing Amelia Bones despised with her whole being it was Death Eaters, and Lucius Malfoy was the embodiment of everything that was wrong with their society.

Which lead her to where she sat now, uncomfortably occupying the deceased Minister's seat while waiting for her first appointment to arrive. The very first thing she had done upon being elected was to send a letter to Harry Potter where she practically demanded he meet with her. The response came almost instantly, already written in a neat cursive script, making her suspect he had been expecting the summons. Of course he had. A fifteen-year-old boy had probably just decided the next Minister of one of the largest magical communities in the world. Absurd.

She heard a knock on her door just as the clock struck four.

"Ma'am, Lord Potter-Black has arrived."

Amelia frowned slightly at the tinge of awe in her secretary's voice, the celebrity worship some people had for the boy struck her as sycophantic.

"Send him in."

She did as asked, opening the door wide while motioning with her hand.

"This way please."

"Thank you Ms."

The voice preceded the boy, well, young man, she corrected, as he entered, giving a roguish smile to her flustered secretary. Tall for his age was her first thought, confident as well. Her eyes narrowed when she took in the way he moved, she had seen other people move like that. Experienced Aurors. A certain grace that stuck out, a certain self-assurance in one's own ability. Interesting. Dressed in his Potter robes he certainly made a dashing figure, she could understand why her niece was so star-struck. Amelia was however not going to fall of her chair for him, she had seen her fair share of popular figures. He walked up to her table and offered his hand with a smile.

"Minister Bones, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, your niece speaks highly of you."

No hesitation, no nervosity. This meeting was becoming more interesting by the minute. She shook his hand.

"Likewise Mr Potter, my niece has told me much about you. Please have a seat."

"Should I be worried?" He asked with a grin as he sat down in the comfortable chair across from her.

"That depends on how this meeting goes. We have much to discuss, starting with why you would endorse me."

His grin faded and he gazed into her eyes, his tone becoming solemn.

"I did not lie when I told the press we needed a strong Minister. We need one now more than ever."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You are referring to the speech you made during one of your DADA meetings?

He smiled faintly.

"Yes. I suspected Susan would inform you about that."

Suspected? No, she thought, assumed. Perhaps even planned for it. She had followed up on the letter and the string of coincidences she found was... disturbing to say the least.

"Speak up Potter, stop beating around the bush, what is it you're trying to say?

His eyes suddenly became vacant, seeming to stare into empty space. Something was touching the privacy wards she had put up around her office, making her stiffen and reach for her wand. Was he trying to break them? No, the presence retreated and his eyes returned into focus, staring at her. He had been probing them, making sure they were there. That was not something taught at Hogwarts, that was a skill experienced Curse Breakers used. Before she could ask his voice cut her off.

"Lord Voldemort has returned."

Amelia froze, clutching her wand, her breath caught in her throat.

"W-what? How? When? Are you certain?"

He smiled, yet this time there was no humor behind it, it was eerie.

"He needed someone strong to revive him. Someone magically strong and someone who's family had opposed him. So he used a magical object to select the single most powerful Light sided student in Hogwarts to use as a sacrifice. To power his resurrection."

She swallowed, besides the sorting hat she knew of only one strong magical object that selected students. The Triwizard Cup. Diggory. His mysterious disappearance. The discovered remains of Alastor Moody's body. The traces of Boomslang skin. The suspicion that someone had been masquerading as him. The string of coincidences Potter had mentioned. The attack on Azkaban. Fudge's sudden death right after. The pieces were falling into place like she was completing a puzzle, yet the picture they painted was terrible.

Her hand shook as she opened her drawer and pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey, pouring herself a glass and instantly downing it. The burning liquid helped her snap out of it, helped her focus.

"Does," she cleared her throat, "does Dumbledore know?"

Potter merely arched his eyebrow in response. Of course he knew. She wasn't foolish enough to discard his magical and political acumen just because he was old. She glared at the young man in front of her.

"You supported me for a reason, what is it you want me to do about this?"

He reclined in his chair, a certain satisfaction in his eyes now.

"First of all, remove Umbridge from Hogwarts. She is a plant by Fudge and the only purpose the bigoted woman serves is to cripple the coming generation of Aurors. Replace her with some Auror that has gotten too old for fieldwork, the students will need a competent teacher now more than ever."

Not what she had been expecting but she still nodded in agreement. She wholeheartedly despised Umbridge and Potter's suggestion was reasonable.

"Next you will need to counter Voldemort's influence in the Ministry. His loyalists are in your every department and control a large chunk of the Wizengamot. They will do everything in their power to hamper, if not downright deny, your efforts."

She snorted.

"That's easier said that done, I can't just fire them without evidence."

He gave her an unnerving grin.

"You being elected as Minister makes Voldemort's attack on Azkaban backfire. An escape from Azkaban without outside help would have been just that, an escape. But he directly attacked the prison, which is owned and operated by the Ministry. It is in fact, a part of the Ministry. Any attack on Ministry assets is an act of war against the Ministry itself. As acting Minister you are within your rights to declare a state of emergency and overrule the Wizengamot until the conflict is resolved."

She gaped at him in surprise, how exactly did he know so much about Wizengamot Law?

"That also solves the issue with funding a larger Auror force, without anyone to oppose you, you can confiscate the vaults of the escaped prisoners, bolstering the Ministry's coffers while draining Voldemort's."

Amelia considered his words while studying his calm face. That had been a bit too rehearsed, a bit too planned. This was no ordinary school boy coming up with random fanciful suggestions. Just who exactly was Harry Potter?

"Of course, this would paint a massive target on your back. I have little doubt Voldemort will come for you the second you issue the order."

She snarled. Voldemort. Her sheer hate for that man allowed her to overcome the fear of using his real name. There was a reason Susan lived with her. That bastard had taken almost everything from her. During the First Wizarding War he had killed her father, her mother and even gone after her brother Edgar. Not willing to stop there he had butchered his wife and even killed their children, leaving her niece Susan as the only survivor. Not because they were a threat, but simply because he could. She longed for the day when she could see him suffer underneath her wand.

"Let him come." She growled.

"Don't be foolish." His voice was harsh.

"There is only one person in all of Magical Britain that can go toe-to-toe with him and hope to come out victorious, and he is not sitting in this room."

Dumbledore. Amelia glared at him, it galled her to admit it but he was right, she was a strong talented witch, but against him the only outcome would be her death. At least Potter wasn't arrogant enough to think himself capable of taking the man on.

"Your death would serve him greatly. It would throw the Ministry into chaos and perhaps even open up the opportunity for Malfoy to claim the seat. Do not allow it to come to that. Have guards present everywhere you go, have them check every letter you receive and every meal you eat. Station a squad at your home."

"You seem to know a lot about him."

His smile was cold.

"I know how he thinks."

That was cryptic answer if she ever heard one.

"One more thing Minister, when you announce the confiscation of the vaults I want you to give me an ministerial exemption to remove one item from the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange."

She frowned, studying his relaxed stance. Bellatrix Lestrange, probably the most fanatic Death Eater of them all, why would he want anything of hers?

"What is it you want to take from there?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

A politicians answer if she ever heard one. Might as well have said 'no comment'.

"Is it related to his return? Or perhaps... his survival?"

He smiled ever so slightly.

"Perhaps."

Letting someone who wasn't affiliated with the Ministry steal something from the vault would be directly against their own regulations. If word got out the political outfall would be tremendous, her hopes of sitting a second term as Minister would no doubt be sunk. Not that she cared too much about that, but she was still hesitant to grant his ambiguous wish.

"Then why should I grant you this boon Mr Potter?"

He drew his wand, making her tense, still clutching her own wand, before pointing it at the ceiling.

"Because if you do Minister, then I Harry James Potter-Black, swear on my magic that I will give you the names of all the Death Eaters involved in the attack on the Bones residence in 1980, so I swear, so mote it be."

Amelia froze, staring at the small light that signified the closing of a magical oath. She wanted to doubt Potter's word, but the magical oath would never have worked if he didn't truly know their names. The culprits. She had been digging for the names of the ones responsible for aiding Voldemort in his attack for as long as she could remember. He had to have help, someone to block the Floo Network to prevent them from escaping, look outs covering the back of the manor to make sure no one fled on foot. He had help, but she had never caught them. Like foul agile snakes they had evaded her grasp. They were the reason she had pursued a career in law enforcement, wishing to not only prevent another tragedy like the one that had struck her family, but also hunt down the ones responsible. The ones who had stolen her family. Her blood boiled with anger, a thirst for vengeance burning in her heart. Her Bones blood hungered for revenge.

She wanted to pretend like she had doubts, like she would need time to consider the offer, but one look at his grin told her everything she needed to know.

They both knew what her answer was going to be.


	14. Salus in umbra

_**A/N:**__ Thank you for all the reviews guys, glad to see you are enjoying the fic, it seems to be growing in popularity rather quickly._

**Chapter 14: Salus in umbra**

Harry Potter fought the urge to whistle happily as he walked down Diagon Alley, heading towards the illustrious Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Things had come together far better than he hoped and he contently patted the ministerial exemption in his inner pocket. He received a few stray glances, but none of them lingered, his nondescript robes and transfigured face made him out to be just another wizard attending his daily chores. This suited him fine, he had absolutely no intention of tipping Voldemort off about what was going to happen.

He had been pleasantly surprised over how easy it had been to foist Amelia into the Minister's seat. Not even he could have predicted Dumbledore choosing to support her. Then again, in retrospect, he should have been expecting it. The old man would never allow Malfoy to take the seat, that man was his masters puppet. If Malfoy gained the seat, he could have achieved in weeks what it took Voldemort years to achieve back in the late seventies.

The hardest part of the plan had been the removal of Fudge without leaving any evidence pointing towards him.

The poison he had used was perfect, it was a combined magical brew that was incredibly intricate, which was not surprising considering he had found it at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was exactly the type of poison that fit the Black reputation to a tee. It used a light calming agent to hide its effects after being ingested, letting the poison slowly spread into the victim's blood-stream without alerting the victim. The side effect of drowsiness was so light that it was easy to overlook. Once the calming agent dissipated the victim's internal magic recognized the danger and attempted to neutralize it, causing abdominal pain as it burned away the remnants of the potion. By this time it was however too late, as the heart was already compromised, the only thing the magic achieved in removing the poison was hiding all the evidence. From there it lead to a quick natural looking heart failure, with no trace of foreign substance left in the body. He chuckled morbidly, no wonder so many political enemies of the Black House suffered sudden natural deaths after dining at their ancestral home.

Of course, like all complex potions, it had weaknesses. It far too easy to counter-act to be used against a knowing victim, even the most basic bezoar would neutralize it. The long brew time was luckily not a problem for him as he already had the poison handy, but his main issue had been the fact that it needed to be ingested in a fairly large dose. Showing up in Fudge's office, only to have the man die soon after, would have been suicidal. That was not the sort of coincidence anyone would overlook. Even if they found no trace of the poison it would still cast an unreasonable amount of suspicion on him.

So he needed to get Fudge out of his office, which also opened up the option to rifle through his mind without some Auror looking over his shoulder. That however lead to another set of problems. How to get him to leave the office without telling anyone, and how to ensure he left no evidence behind that would point towards a meeting with him.

Lily Potter's various Charms journals came in extremely handy here. Her incredible expertise combined with his ingenuity and ruthlessness allowed him to create a real masterpiece of a letter. It had taken him hours just to make the enchantments stick, but in the end it had been worth it. He pitied the fools that thought Charms was one of the weakest of the Great Magics, they failed to comprehend just how much could be achieved with knowledge in the area.

The outer coating of the letter had been spelled with a modified Confundus Charm, encouraging any who touched it to forget about the whole thing. It obviously wouldn't work on strong minded people, but then again, he had highly doubted a strong willed person would stand to be around Fudge. Not to mention that the man couldn't tolerate having anyone oppose him, which was why he surrounded himself with sycophants like Umbridge. Still, it wouldn't do to be too confident in ones own abilities, so just in case someone else got their hands on it he had added a fail-safe to the wax seal. If anyone but the intended recipient broke it, the letter would burst into flame, being incinerated on the spot and leaving no evidence behind.

He had briefly entertained the idea of simply killing the man with the letter itself, but it would have been nigh impossible to make it look natural, not to mention he would never be able to plunder his mind then. Evidence of an unnatural death would also have lead to a far deeper investigation, something he definitively could not risk.

Inside the letter itself he wove two Compulsion Charms. One to suggest the reader would obey the instructions and another to enforce the suggestion that the reader kept the letter with them. He gambled on the fact that Fudge would be so eager to meet him that the compulsion would easily take hold. Considering the chaos in the Ministry it was a reasonable bet to take. Like all compulsions, a strong willed individual could easily overcome them, but Fudge had always been a weak-minded coward.

That still left him with the issue of delivering the letter to him. He was not foolish enough to think that the Ministry would allow letters to be sent directly to their recipients inside the building. No, he knew they had a series of checkpoints where all incoming owls were directed, to be scanned for any harmful substances or spells. Avoiding that obstacle turned out to be surprisingly easy however, with the hundreds of panicked people shouting and demanding service after the Azkaban attack, it was child's play to slip in underneath his invisibility cloak. The Auror presence was at an all time low as they were out hunting the escapees and protecting possible targets, so he could easily take the elevator to the Minister's floor and release his owl up there, bypassing the entire scanning procedure.

The last obstacle he had left in his plan was removing his magical signature from Fudge. All cast spells left a residue, it was the reason investigative spells like Prior Incantato could be used to check wands for the last spell used. To overcome this, he selected the place for their meeting before sending the letter, scouting out the location in person. Finding it adequate, he cast a small Muggle-Repelling Charm on the secluded booth, ensuring he would be able to work in peace and that no one else occupied it. He prepared Fudge's intended seat with a small runic array, intended for cleansing magic from people before rituals. Rituals were incredible precise works of magic, and any unintended conflicting magic could throw off the result by a mile. Which was why someone like Voldemort knew how to create a small cleansing ritual like the back of his hand.

The brief pulse of cleansing magic had the unfortunate side-effect of removing any Durability, Heating or Cleaning Charms Fudge might have on his clothing that were not cast by the man himself. But considering he was coming in from the blistering cold January weather it was unlikely that he would notice the foreign magic being dispelled.

Harry had stayed hidden when Fudge walked into the coffee shop, utilizing a brief burst of Legilimency to verify that he had in fact come alone and without informing anyone. As soon as he was certain, he happily waved the Minister over, directing him to the prepared seat. Summoning the letter from his pocket as he sat down was simple, the man was practically gushing to meet him. He offered the prepared tea with a smile while engaging him in useless conversation, all the while carefully dipping into his mind to learn anything of value. He knew the man craved a public meeting with him, so he gave him exactly that, watching with a grin as the tea in his cup disappeared. When a sufficient amount of tea had been consumed he started making inane requests, hoping the now satisfied Minister would grow tired of him soon.

The thought of using the Imperius Curse flittered through his mind but he quickly discarded it. The magical residue it left was enormous, and any trained Healer would instantly recognize the traces of it. Not to mention that with the Ministry on high alert it was possible they were monitoring the country for any serious Dark Magic.

Thankfully it did not take Fudge long to explain how valuable his time was, before he practically ran out of the shop, no doubt to contact the press about the meeting the next day. Harry had chuckled ruefully while sipping his own tea, already contemplating his next action.

Scanning Fudge's mind did lead to some unexpected gold, namely the hidden safe he had in his house. He had grinned when his mind strayed to Auror Nymphadora Tonks, the woman was the perfect candidate to make such a career bolstering find. The woman was a Black after all. Sirius had made him Lord Black in his last will, making it his responsibility to look out for the Black family, even if some fool had decided to cast Andromeda out. He honored that wish out of respect for the man he had never met, because his will had made his life so much easier. He snorted, figures the one person they decided to cast out would turn out to have a Metamorphmagi as a daughter. For a family that valued bloodlines over everything, that must have been an exceedingly bitter pill to swallow.

He jolted out of his thoughts when he almost stumbled into the goblin guards outside of the intimidating bank. Walking past them he entered the large lobby, quickly spotting an empty teller. There rarely was any need to stand in a queue for service here, say what you want about the little creatures, but they sure were efficient at their task. The goblin gave him a quick once-over before responding.

"Yes?"

Harry merely handed over his document, carrying the personal seal of the Minister. The goblin frowned as it read it, sending a small snarl at him when it realized he was under disguise. They didn't take too kindly about hiding your true face in the bank, but Harry wasn't about to risk anyone asking any unnecessary questions. Instead it handed over a small stone, covered in runes. Knowing the procedure he quickly held it in his palm, feeling a small trickle of his magic slipping into it. The goblin snatched back the Sensing Stone and placed it in a vat of liquid, watching it read his magical signature. Satisfied that he was who he claimed it hopped off its seat, walking towards the cart that would take them deeper into the bank.

"Follow me wizard." It grunted.

Harry didn't let the gruff tone bother him, they were nasty little things. Greedy and devious were some of the more flattering words people used to describe them. Nonetheless, they still knew their craft very well, which was why they were allowed to guard the gold. He felt a sense of elation as he sat down in the cart, he was finally approaching his final goal. Seven long years he had waited and now he was so close he could almost taste it.

His childhood had not been the best. When he was a child he was convinced that he was the most unfortunate child in existence, but later in his life he came to realize it had never been that had. He had seen hints of the cruelty some people inflicted on children and his suffering had never reached those depths. But he was shunned and despised, forced to work for little food and sent to a dark cupboard for his sleep. The Dursleys never had anything but loathing for him and it showed, but they held their hand from going too far, possibly out of respect because he was Lily's child, but more likely out of fear of retribution. It was somewhat ironic that the catalyst of his change would be Dudley Dursley.

As a child he had hated Dudley, but as he grew up he realized his hate had been irrational. Not that it eased his feelings for him, he simply understood that it was foolish to blame a child for the short-comings of his parents. A child is after all only a reflection of the people that raise him. But Dudley was never taught right from wrong, never scolded for hurting or bullying him. Thus it was one evening seven years ago, when Dudley thought it would be the height of comedy to push the freak as he was about to walk down the long winding stairs of the Dursley household.

Harry was short for his age, undernourished and skinny, where as Dudley was large and burly, having more mass than him, even if you discounted his thick layer of fat. Predictably the push had done more than simply make him stumble, it sent him careening down the steep steps, bouncing and rolling against the unforgiving wood. When he finally came to a halt at the bottom of the steps he felt strange. Weightless, like he was floating. He looked at Dudley only to see his horrified wide eyes as the boy stifled a scream. Petunia and Vernon came running to see why the freak had been causing such a racket, and he vividly remembered their wide eyes. Petunia looked pale, her hand covering her mouth as she laid eyes on him.

Harry understood something was wrong, realizing he couldn't even feel his hands. Nor his feet. Nor anything below his neck. Looking down he realized he was looking over his shoulder, staring at his own back. His neck. Even at his age he understood what it meant when you twisted your neck. A gargled scream tried to escape from his throat as he felt fear blossom in his heart, pure desperation festering inside of him. He was going to die here. Perhaps Harry Potter had died there. The Harry Potter that could have been, the Harry Potter that might have been.

A sudden flare of heat surged through his body, filling his entire being to the brim. At the time he didn't understand it, but later he realized it had been the protection his mother had left on him. Its sole purpose was to protect him, keep him alive, and as his body faded it did everything it could to save him. It lashed around wildly, scorch marks appearing on the steps at it reached for anything that could help him. It found something, strong powerful blood wards erected by possibly the strongest wizard in existence. Reaching out it drew on them, pulled on the very magic that tied them together and funneled the power into the crippled boy. It pulled until the very wards almost snapped, but it did nothing to undo the damage, it only kept him alive.

In its desperation it reached for the only viable source of life it could find. It reach for the well of pure power it had isolated from the boy. It reached for his scar.

A veritable fountain of power rushed into him, but unlike the pure power that had helped him earlier, this one was flawed. Tainted. Like an oil slick that festered on a sunny lake it was rotten, flooding his being with darkness and filth. His mind rebelled and screamed in agony when the foreign presence entered him, memories and emotions flashing through his head. Rage, hate, fear and anger all boiled inside of him, yet they were not his emotions.

He heard the soft pops and crackles as his neck pulled itself together, the sheer power of life and magic fusing the broken bones and healing the torn nerves. He saw Dudley's white face, staring at him with fear in his eyes as a wet spot grew on his pants. He had pissed himself. With a last snap his neck righted itself, sensation returning to his limbs among the flood of burning fire and dark filth. He stood up on shaky legs, fighting the nausea that tried to force his dinner up his throat. Looking at his aunt and uncle he saw sheer terror in their eyes, both staring at him with disbelief. Vernon reacted quicker, grabbing a fireplace poker and waving it in his face.

"Get away from us you freak! Get out! Get out now!"

Confused and disoriented he obeyed, not understanding what was going on. His mind felt like it was bursting and his very insides were twisting around, like they were trying to make room where there was none. As he stumbled towards the door he saw his face in a mirror, gasping in fright. His once green eyes were red, dark red like burning blood. Frightened and dazed he staggered out of the house, trying to clear his mind as he limped away.

Harry could not remember how long he stayed away from the house, but he had brief memories of stealing food and sleeping in empty houses or garages. He could remember every single door opening for him, simply by grabbing the handle he would hear the door unlock. Perhaps it was his need that drove his magic, perhaps it was something else.

He could not remember much of his return to the Dursley's, but he knew fear had driven him back. Frightened to live alone, without food and order he had stumbled back to Privet Drive, hoping to once again embrace the comforting darkness of his cupboard. Back then he never understood how deeply he would need to embrace the shadow. But it had not been a welcoming face that had opened the door in the middle of the night. Vernon looked furious, standing there in his bathrobe, veins throbbing on his face as he raged at him.

"Get lost freak, we have had enough of your kind snooping around here lately! We are done with you, you are no longer welcome in this house!"

It had wounded him to think that they would just discard him like that, like trash. The feeling of hurt however quickly gave to anger. The anger on the other hand was fed by something inside of him, turning to rage. He embraced the rage and felt something churn inside of him as it grew into hate. Hate for these wretched beings who would cast him away like garbage. Like an erupting volcano the emotion boiled in his veins and he remembered the second of shock that passed over Vernon's face before he was flung into the opposing wall like a rag doll. The memories of that night were hazy, but he remembered his cold laughter as flames as dark as the night erupted from his hands. The wailing and begging of Petunia as it consumed everything in his sight.

When he had woken up the next day he was groggy and confused. He did not recognize the house, but something within him told it was safe. A sanctuary. A warded home. Warded? Memories that were not his boiled in his mind, overwhelming his young self. Two years he had spent merely surviving, merely trying to understand what he was going through. He learned of places he had never visited, events he had never witnessed and felt a churning ball of dark hatred within him, trying to influence him in every direction. Yet a heat in his veins kept the darkness at bay, shunning it from gaining full control. His mother's protection would not have faltered that easily. But even when he thought back about the Dursley's fate he could not find it in himself to weep, the part of him that would have done that had faded. Died. Withered.

It was parts curiosity, parts need that drove him to Malfoy Manor at the age of ten. His headaches had been becoming worse, a crippling pain that would leave him panting on the ground. He knew the place held something he needed, something important he had to have. Later he would come to understand just how lucky he had been that night. Lucky that the Malfoy's were in France, lucky that the wards would accept anyone carrying the Dark Mark. The familiar taint inside of him confused the wards, letting him slip past the strong security measures. His memories guided his hand and it was there he realized it was not a hallucination, not a vivid dream. He had actual memories of things he had never seen. It was there he found the Diary.

He was unprepared for what happened when he touched it, the shard inside of him and the one in the diary wished desperately to meld, to become one. It was too large a part of him to be drawn out, so the diary was instead drawn into him. Flooding him with more knowledge, more power and above all, more filth and darkness. But the diary had also held the largest part of his soul, and the knowledge he gained from it changed his course. It was from those memories he learned of Occlumency, something to calm the raging war inside of his mind. It was a hard art, but for someone whose mind had been under attack for years it was learned out of necessity. Out of desperation.

From there on out things made more sense. He could understand some of the things happening. He knew a letter would be coming for him in a year, asking him to attend Hogwarts. He had to disappear, sort out his mind. The instability of the soul within him was mirrored by the instability of his mind. Later in his life he had wondered why they hadn't traced his magical signature, only to realize it had changed that one night. Just as the pieces inside of him had changed his very being. He had once looked like a young clone of James Potter, but there was too much of his mother and Voldemort in him now, he would never look like that again. He had grown in a different direction.

It wasn't until he was twelve that he dared to brave the Department of Mysteries to find the orb that held his prophecy. He had shattered memories of it, but needed to hear the whole thing. Needed to understand.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."_

He could not remember how long he had sat there, underneath his Disillusionment Charm, staring at the glowing orb in his hand. The first part was obvious, it was next part that terrified him. Marked as an equal. For neither can live. He understood, he had to become his equal. He could feel the shattered pieces of Voldemort's soul inside of him, trying to meld with his soul while his own did the same. But one was whole while the other was shattered. They could not be matched, there had to be equivalent exchange. They struggled constantly against each other, tearing him apart from the inside.

He needed to complete _his_ soul, needed to meld it into himself. Needed to become his equal, for if he did not then he was lost. For neither can live while the other survives. The power he knew not had to be his mother's protection, saving him from simply being taken over. Buffering him against the shadow.

Was it fate that had made Dudley push him down the stairs he wondered. Was it destiny? Or was it just the folly of a young child.

The cart stopped with a lurch, jerking him out of his thoughts.

"We're here." The goblin grunted, before walking over to the vault door and unlocking it.

The chill of the underground seeped into Harry's bones as he saw the dark vault open. At the end of it he could see a small glint of gold, reflecting the the small amount of light that seeped into the dark cavern. The Cup. Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. The Horcrux. He could feel the vile magic of the cursed container resonate with the putrid taint within him. Once more he would need to embrace the darkness, revel in the filth, let it seep into his being. Once more would he need to let the shadow fill him, for it was his only chance of survival.

Steeling his mind he walked into the vault, moving towards the sixth Horcrux of Voldemort. His flashing dagger left a quick cut on his hand as he took a deep steadying breath. Narrowing his eyes he reached out and grasped the cup, the paralyzing pain and filth once more flooding him, drowning his soul. Yet at the same time, saving it. Salus in umbra. Salvation in shadow.

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_**A/N:**__ Salus in umbra is salvation in shadow in Latin. It was actually the first title I considered for this story, but in the end I decided to keep it simple and stuck to English._


	15. A double-edged sword

**Chapter 15: A double-edged sword**

Daphne stifled a yawn, carefully pouring herself a cup of tea while observing the students in the Great Hall. She usually despised Monday mornings, but after the weekend they had just been through she was just grateful about the classes starting up again.

The tension in the castle was rising by each day that went by, even the thickest fool could now realize there was something sinister going on. When the Azkaban news broke on Saturday the whispers had started, especially with the way the likes of Malfoy and Pucey were behaving. A sudden swagger in their steps, wide grins on their face as they became ever bolder. With Harry being missing the entire weekend they were more daring, the old insults and suggestive words slipping out again. Still, even when Malfoy taunted her and Tracey, he would glance towards the common room entrance every few seconds. The display Harry had given him before the Christmas holiday had clearly stuck, he might act brave but she knew there was hesitation in his eyes. Uncertainty.

Well, she could deal with his posturing, it was nothing new really. Daphne was honestly just grateful they were ignoring her sister Astoria, hopefully by being a third year she would remain out of the spotlight. Astoria had never been as cold and focused as she was, making her fear for her sisters safety. It didn't help that she was growing noticeable curves now, catching far more eyes than Daphne was comfortable with.

Sunday's Daily Prophet only added to the tension, the news of Fudge's death followed by Harry's endorsement of Bones had the entire castle talking. It was not every day a student was featured on the front page and more than one of them huddled around a wizarding radio that day, eagerly waiting for word of the result. Malfoy had been grinning wildly the entire day, already calling himself the Minister's son. She on the other hand hadn't been so certain, Bones suddenly looked like a very strong candidate. When the news broke she fought the urge to break out in dance, the sort of influence Malfoy would have had on their house with his father as Minister would have been terrifying.

She and Tracey had wisely stayed out of the Slytherin quarters the entire day, the rage and muttering about both Potter and Bones was hitting new heights. Which was why she was pleased when classes were finally starting again, the entire student body could use the distraction.

A sudden lull in the murmuring voices caught her attention, making her turn towards the doors. Daphne fought the urge to smile when she saw Harry walking in, looking surprisingly tired. It felt out of place for someone who always looked so immaculate. She could see the way the entire hall studied him, even Dumbledore was resting his eyes on him, seemingly weighing him.

No surprise to see that the Hufflepuffs looked very pleased to see him, Susan Bones practically beaming in her chair as she stared at him. Considering he had supported her aunt, who also happened to be a former Hufflepuff, he was probably highly regarded in that house now. Even the Gryffindors seemed pleased, which somehow felt unnatural to her, they were adamantly against all things Slytherin, yet here they were, smiling pleasantly at one. Lavender Brown looked like she wanted to jump him on the spot, a pretty blush covering her face. Figures she would find his even greater fame even more attractive. Longbottom caught her eye, simply because she was having trouble recognizing him. The focused glint in his eyes as he nodded at Harry looked as out of place as a smile on a Dementor. What the hell had happened to him during the weekend?

The Ravenclaws were just studying him, with Padma looking like she had stumbled on another piece of a particularly engrossing puzzle. The strange Lovegood girl on the hand just seemed happy, pouring... pumpkin juice into her porridge? She was another of Harry's mysteries, Daphne knew that he seemed to spend quite a bit of time with the girl. At first she couldn't understand what he found so interesting about her, but they seemed to get along well. She had foolishly judged her based on rumors and her strange behavior, until the day when she had seen the girl absentmindedly solving seventh year Arithmancy problems in the library. That was when she remembered that Lovegood's mother had been a spell researcher of some fame, before dying in an experiment gone wrong. She wouldn't be surprised if Harry had seen what the girl had hidden underneath from the start. After all, if she was a complete idiot then she wouldn't have been sorted into Ravenclaw to begin with.

Her own table was surprisingly mixed. There was a mix of interest, confusion and sheer hatred, depending on who you looked at. Dark families like Malfoy had a smoldering rage barely hidden beneath the eyes, while known neutrals like Nott and Farley simply held interest.

"Morning ladies." He greeted as he sat down, choosing a seat that left his back against the wall as always.

"Morning Harry."

"Hey Harry, how come you look like shit?" Tracey blurted out.

Daphne stifled a snort, it was good to see her friend still possessed her usual amount of tact. He just grinned tiredly in return.

"Long weekend."

"Tell me about it." Tracey muttered, snatching a bagel from the table.

"Things have been tense around here?" He asked, glancing at the rest of the table.

"You could say that," Tracey amended, "if you consider Draco 'I-am-the-son-of-the-Minister' Malfoy walking around with a face that made us suspect someone had shoved an entire broom cupboard up his ass."

Harry chuckled at that.

"Well sorry to break it to you ladies, but if you expect it to get better today you're going to be wrong."

Daphne frowned, what now?

"What do you mean?"

He shot her a grin, seeming very pleased.

"Just wait for today's paper. The reactions should be... interesting."

She audibly groaned, anything he found interesting usually meant dangerous for them. Associating with Harry had turned out to be a real double-edged sword. With a grip made out of broken glass and a pommel made out of barbed wire. When he was around he brought safety to them, but with him gone it just left a larger target on their backs. It was far too late to pretend like they had nothing to do with him, not that she even knew if she wanted to do that. Despite her early impression he had turned out to be quite fun to be around. Intelligent and witty when he wanted to be and honestly good company even on his sour days. But she knew that neutrality was no longer an option for her, although she doubted it had ever really been. The Slytherins would have crowded and harassed them regardless of their association with Harry, their lecherous stares had been around far before he arrived. So now they were stuck in a house filled with people who had it out for them, depending on the person who seemed to do everything in his power to make them even angrier.

Speaking of the devil she heard the flutter of wings, watching the swarm of owls descend on the Great Hall. Swallowing nervously she removed her own Daily Prophet, spreading it out on the table. The color drained from her face as she saw the titles, Merlin, the woman was insane.

_'Bones new Minister'_ predictably dominated the front page, but it was the other headlines that drew her eyes. _'New Minister declares state of emergency, overrules Wizengamot'_ followed by _'All Death Eater vaults confiscated'_. Her tea lay forgotten as she scanned the paper, swallowing heavily as she reached the third headline. _'Investigation launched into past trials'_.

Oh Merlin, she was going to go over all the past Death Eater trials. Bones had cited reasons like the corruption they had discovered at the Fudge house and the miscarriage of justice that had sent Black to prison. Valid reasons sure, but the woman wasn't as much poking the bee hive as she was kicking it over and jumping on it. She had even given a little comment to the reporter at the end, clearly jabbing a stick at the corruption.

_"Minister Bones, are you worried about the reactions this decision might cause?"_

_"Oh of course not Simmons, we are merely making sure no mistakes were made the last time around. I am certain no one will have reason to complain. After all, if they are as innocent as they proclaim, then the investigation will reflect that."_

Clever. Any complaints aimed at the matter now, especially from notable Dark families, would make them look guilty. But with the recent death of Fudge and the Azkaban attack it had to take balls of steel to so openly challenge them. The woman clearly held no fear at all, or maybe she just lacked a self-preservation instinct.

And the confiscation of vaults. Merlin, if there was one thing purebloods loved more than their blood purity it was their money, yet she was flat out taking it, at the same time sending a message about what would happen to the funds of any other Death Eaters caught.

The sound in the Great Hall had been steadily rising since the paper arrived, angry snarls and mutters coming from the Slytherins while the Gryffindors were practically hooting and laughing, slapping Susan on the back. She hoped the girl understood to keep her friends and Hufflepuffs around her at all times now, she had just become a very convenient target for many people to take out their anger on. If the situation could be described as a powder keg, then Amelia Bones had just lit the fuse, leaving them counting down to the explosion.

The members of her house were sending angry glares at Harry, but he just looked up from the paper and sent an overly wide grin at them, showing teeth. Shit, he was actually challenging them. Practically begging for them to do something. Probably like what he had done to Malfoy, hoping he would try to retaliate through legal means. No doubt that his father had shot that down, Malfoy had cast the first spell against an aspiring Lord of his House, it could lead to a whole pile of legal issues. The Slytherins looked away when they saw his disturbing grin, but she knew it wouldn't end there. It was simmering underneath the surface, just waiting to erupt. They would not sit idle forever.

_'This war won't be like the last one, you will be risking more than your reputation'_ he had told them that night with Malfoy. She knew she wasn't the only one thinking about his words as they read the paper, his words were proving prophetic. This situation was incredibly awkward for her and Tracey though, the targets on their backs had just been lit up with Bluebell Flames.

As if reading her mind he suddenly reached into his inner pocket, pulling out two slim bracelets. He handed one to her and one to Tracey, smiling mysteriously. She studied the slim chain, noting that they were made of silver. A metal with strong magical properties. Squinting she could make out faint engravings all over the chain, looking like runes.

"What's this?" Tracey asked.

"A gift. I recommend you wear them at all times."

Daphne studied his face, trying to figure out what they were. She instantly discarded the idea that it was dangerous to her, if he wanted to hurt them he would have been able to do so at almost any time. They spent a lot of time together, just the three of them, and she had no delusions of being able to best him in a fight. Making up her mind she clasped it around her wrist, feeling a small current of magic going through the chain. He shot her a pleased smile, forcing her to hide a blush. Daphne frowned at her own reaction, she knew there was more to these bracelets than just a gift for a girl, but she still couldn't help feeling pleased. Tracey shrugged and repeated the action, admiring the jewelry.

This was just another mystery, adding to a long mental list she was compiling. Her father would be pleased if she told him, but she was hesitant about that. Both she and Tracey had received a letter last night, their parents were suddenly very interested in Harry Potter after they had seen his influence in action. She strongly doubted she was the only one to receive such a letter that night, people were waking up to realize there was a lot more to him than they first thought. She knew her parents were under tremendous pressure, neutral families were being pulled one way or another as the situation escalated. Neutrality was clearly not beeing seen as a valid option this time. Daphne just desperately hoped he wouldn't get any foolish ideas into his mind, like sending a marriage contract to Harry. It would just turn out embarrassing for both of them when he turned it down.

She was under no illusions regarding Harry, where as he was obviously interested in women, it was never in a serious manner. He simply seemed too busy to have time or interest in pursuing anything deeper. She wondered why so many girls that admired him couldn't understand that he was hellishly driven, constantly working towards some goal he had in mind. Everything else around him seemed superfluous, something he barely paid attention to. The fact that he had even given the bracelets in the first place was surprising, his interest in matters regarding the school was seemingly only superficial. She had seen his eyes when he attended classes, there was barely hidden frustration whenever he easily performed anything the teacher asked. He obviously already knew everything being taught.

Her curiosity getting the better of her she leaned forward, lowering her voice.

"Harry, why do you even attend the school anymore? I know you could write the OWLs at any time you wished, especially now that Bones is Minister."

She fought the urge to blush as his green eyes peered deep into hers. He cracked a small smile.

"How do you know I'm not just staying to look out for my girls?"

This time she did blush, but quickly worked to hide it.

"While flattering, I strongly doubt that's the only reason."

"Perhaps." He agreed, giving another mysterious smile.

She sighed, of course, another enigma. Tracey interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey Harry, you up for working on our Ancient Runes project today after dinner? We have to have it done by Friday."

"Sorry, I won't be able to make the evening today. In fact, it's unlikely I'll make any evening this week. Can we do it on Wednesday morning?"

"Umm, sure, I guess." She replied, before sending him a suspicious look. "But why wont you be able to make any evenings this week?"

Daphne was thinking the same thing, he usually disappeared for a few hours, but being gone the entire evening was new. His grinning answer just confused her more.

"Would you believe me if I said I was sleeping?"

Tracey hummed, studying him.

"Considering how you look right now, yeah I actually would. But every evening? Why?"

He just made a hushing motion with his finger, prompting a groan from both of them. Daphne didn't think he was lying however, he did look rather tired.

But if he was sleeping during the day, then what exactly was Harry Potter doing during the night?


	16. Pale nightmare

_**A/N:**__ Thank you for the feedback everyone, especially Oh_I_am_Slain, as I agree with you, but I didn't feel like I could keep the readers entirely in the dark for so long. I told people __why__ Harry is the way he is, but I never did specify exactly what he is like. There will hopefully still be plenty of instances where I attempt to keep the reader guessing or at least entertained, as I find predictable stories to be boring myself._

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**Chapter 16: Pale nightmare**

Nymphadora Tonks cursed silently as she recast the Heating Charm on herself, the crisp cold nighttime air was negating the charm far too quickly for her liking. She sighed in pleasure as she felt the shivers once again abate, watching her breath swirl in the frigid January air. Ducking behind a tree she quickly lifted her invisibility cloak to check the time. Not even three am yet. She bit back a curse as she stepped back out of cover, her shift would last until four. Her current assignment was that of a perimeter guard for the Bones Manor, keeping watch on the outer edges of the extensive wards.

She was undecided if she preferred this assignment over her usual infiltration or information gathering ones. Those were her usual jobs thanks to her unique gift, generally revolving around donning the face of some seedy looking wizard and sipping cheap Firewhiskey in some shady pub while keeping her ears open. Well, there was always the danger of someone sticking a dagger between her ribs, but at least she would be warm. A yawn slipped past her lips and she quickly shrugged it off, she couldn't afford to get drowsy, she needed to stay alert.

If it was Fudge she was guarding she would most likely dismiss the job as the fool panicking and wasting valuable resources on his own safety, but considering it was Madam Bones, her old boss, that was in charge now, she knew that there was a reason for it. That woman never did anything without a reason and didn't have a cowardly bone in her body, that she would station fifteen Aurors at her own warded Manor meant that she suspected something was coming.

Tonks was honestly very pleased to have Amelia in charge, it was hard for her to even feel any sympathy for Fudge. The man had been crippling their department for as long as she could remember, hindering investigations and interfering in matters he should have had no say in. Fudge's mismanagement of the Moody case was the reason she had become so disillusioned with the Ministry. When she had heard about the death of her mentor, her teacher, the one who had taught her everything she knew about being an Auror, she had been dying to hunt down those responsible. Yet to her mounting disbelief Fudge had blocked the investigation, doing everything in his power to keep it quiet. She had joined the Auror force to solve crimes, not hide them.

Thus when Kingsley Shacklebolt, Senior Auror and old friend of Moody's approached her with an alternative, a way to actually do something about the rising crime, she had grabbed it with both hands. The Order of the Phoenix the group was called, and to her pleasant surprise the leader was her old Headmaster.

The Order was clearly keeping some things secret from her though. They knew something was happening, something dangerous, yet they wouldn't share it with her. At first she had thought it was a lack of trust in her, but Kingsley told her it was because of her unique circumstances. The words had confused her at first, before he mentioned her 'potential family'. That's when she understood. Harry Potter. Or more accurately, Harry Potter-Black. The Order knew just as well as she did, that if he offered to reinstate her and her mother into the Black family, then they would gladly accept. Tonks was no fool, she knew how the Ministry worked. A name like Black carried a lot of weight and would open doors for promotions far faster than a name like Tonks. But that would also make Potter her Head of House, which in the eyes of the Order meant that any secrets she knew might be leaked to him.

That reminded her that she really needed to talk to him. If not about the family issues then at least to thank him for getting Amelia into the Minister's seat. Or, she grinned, if he looked half as good as his picture in the Daily Prophet implied she might do more than just thank him.

Two soft cracks broke the stillness of the cold night, jolting her out of her thoughts. Apparition? She moved towards where the sounds came from, silently making her way through the soft layer of powder snow.

"Did ya hear that?" She froze, the gruff voice catching her off guard. Peering between the branches of the trees she could see two men, both looking at a large shrubbery next to them.

"Nah, you probably heard some animal." The other man replied.

She exhaled in relief that they hadn't heard her, but when they turned towards the manor she got a good look at them. Long black swirling robes with the hoods pulled up over their heads. But it was the faces that shocked her. Or the lack of them to be exact. The pale moonlight reflected off the fine metal masks, leaving only slits where the eyes were supposed to be. A grill covered where the mouth was supposed to be, wisps of exhaled air leaking through the gaps, like some hellish image of a human steam machine. Her breath caught in her throat. Death Eaters. The worst their society had to offer, death and cruelty hiding behind polished masks.

"Whatever," the first man said, "let's check the area so we can summon _him_. You know _he_ doesn't to like to wait."

The second man grunted in agreement, starting to make his way through the light forest. Tonks carefully exhaled, not even realizing she had been holding her breath for all this time. Making sure she didn't step on any branches she snuck back towards the large manor house, she needed to warn them. If she sent up a signal they would know they had been spotted. She didn't know who the 'him' was that they had talked about, but she did understand what those two checking the area meant. A scouting party. Once she was certain she was out of hearing range she broke into a run, the half moon in the sky lighting up the alabaster landscape. Reaching the doors she hesitated for a second before making up her mind, casting a quick Patronus Charm to inform the Headmaster of what was going on. He told them to always contact him if something unusual happened.

She barreled through the doors, snapping a silencing charm on them behind her before shouting at the top of her lungs.

"Code red! Code red! Perimeter breach!"

The house erupted into life, Aurors scrambling to gather their gear as her commander in charge, Kingsley Shacklebolt, marched up to her.

"Auror Tonks, report!"

"Two unknowns sighted outside the wards in the east sector, suspected scouting party, indicated reinforcements arriving soon. And sir, they were wearing Death Eater regalia."

His eyes hardened before he started snapping out orders.

"Stevens, activate the pendants, recall the Aurors on patrol! Woodcliffe and Creeke, cover the back of house, everyone else form a semicircle perimeter around the house, forty yards out, heading east! Move, move move!"

She scrambled back out of the house, running to get into a good position. Where as the old sturdy manor would have provided some protection from direct spellfire, it could easily be turned into a death trap if they were surrounded and they simply set the whole thing on fire. Kingsley dropped down next to her in a crouch, lowering his voice.

"Did you inform Dumbledore?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He said, clapping her on her back before moving away to get the Aurors in position. She spotted Amelia walking out of the house, clad in full dragon skin armor, barely contained fury in her eyes. She shivered slightly at her stern look, the woman looked ready to start a war. Where as Kingsley was officially in charge, they all knew that if Amelia took over there would be no objections. The woman had risen from a Junior Auror to the head of the whole department, investing decades into the betterment of the Auror forces. Regardless of what any titles might say, she was and would probably always be their boss.

A sudden sensation crawled over her skin, like a weight had settled on her. Anti-Apparition and probably Anti-Portkey wards she realized. Considering they were keyed into the Bones wards it had to be someone outside setting them up. She narrowed her eyes, peering into the dark courtyard, trying to spot to any movement. Only the slight wisps of breath gave away the hidden positions of the Aurors as the air grew oppressive. A silent waiting stillness took over, the slight rustle of the wind sending powdered snow whirling over the still grounds.

"**GONG!**"

The loud sound ripped through the air as the wards covering the manor grounds suddenly became visible, clearly under heavy attack. The banging sound repeated, over and over again and she could see the way the wards flared and sizzled, fighting against the strain. It sounded like someone was beating on a massive pan with a baseball bat, the sound sending vibrations through her chest. With a sudden loud crack they ripped, looking like northern lights rippling over the sky, lighting up the pale faces of the Aurors around her. Silence descended on them again until Kingsley's voice broke through the cold air.

"Stay hidden, wait until they are close, on my signal open fire. Use debilitating spells."

Tonks swallowed nervously, clutching her wand. Debilitating spells was code for 'crippling but not lethal'. There would be no Expelliarmus or Stupefy spells thrown around tonight. Sure they might accidentally kill them, but as long as they could prove it wasn't their intention there would be no repercussions. Amelia had rescinded the order that Fudge had put out, requiring everyone to always use the least harmful possible spells to subdue their opponent. Thank Merlin for that.

A slight shift in the shadows caught her eye, making her focus on the movement. Soon she could see them, black shapes moving slowly through the snow, wands clearly out as they ghosted through the shadowed areas. The clouds blocking the moon passed and she had to stifle a groan, there had to be at least twenty of them, the pale light illuminating the masks every single one wore. She clenched her fists so hard it hurt, there hadn't been a sighting of this many Death Eaters since the last war. Ever closer they moved and she had to subdue her urge to throw up a Disillusionment Charm around her. They couldn't risk it, if they had a magical sensor with them, someone sensitive to the flow of magic in the air, they would stand out like brightly lit beacons.

They were barely thirty yards from them when one of the Death Eaters froze, peering right at where Johnson sat. She shifted her eyes to where he was looking, spotting the problem instantly, the light snow on one of the trees next to him was melting. Tonks bit back a curse, goddamn rookies, he hadn't dispelled the Heating Charm on his clothes after returning from his patrol. Kingsley clearly noticed it as well and raised his wand, shouting "NOW!" as he sent a Blasting Curse right into the middle of their front line.

The rest of them followed suit, most copying his spell of use, the shouts of "Confringo" breaking the silence. A roar of explosions tore through the air as the spells landed among their exposed lines, sending Death Eaters flying from the sudden force. Trees ripped and the ground tore, adding shrapnel to the already destructive barrage. Yet their enemies were clearly not rookies, walls made out of transfigured earth rose around the grounds as they dove for cover, only a handful of them being caught in the opening salvo. The response came soon after, destructive and lethal dark spells smashing against their cover, billowing explosions of flame catching any Auror foolish enough to be caught flatfooted. The man next to her had his cover flooded with an acid spell, his agonized screams ripping at her soul as his skin bubbled and boiled, melting like ice cream left in the sun. She leapt to stun him, but in his panic he ran out of cover, being instantly shredded in the open ground.

Even with their losses they clearly held the advantage, the surprise attack had ripped apart the Death Eater center, leaving their forces split on both their flanks. Aurors helped each other move up, transfiguring new cover for any pinned members and changing their defensive semicircle position from concave to convex, quickly moving to surround them. The Death Eaters fought as individuals, where as they on the other hand had been trained to fight as a group, a squad, a team. Tonks laid down covering fire as her left flank moved, alternating between Confringo, Expulso and Diffindo spells. Mad-Eye always told her spells that served multiple purposes were the best on the battlefield, and her exploding and cutting curses were just that, close to lethal if she landed a direct hit, yet still effective at ripping apart cover if they were blocked. She felt determination boil in her blood as she watched how pinned down the Death Eaters were, they were winning this battle.

A sudden dark red crescent-shaped spell split across the entire field, leaving a whooshing sound in its wake, the sheer power behind it causing the hair on her neck to rise. All eyes involuntarily followed the spell, heading right towards Auror Johnson. His eyes widened in panic, raising a Shield Charm as he ducked behind a tree. The curse ripped straight through the thick tree, tearing through his shield like paper before ripping him apart like a leaf caught in a hurricane. The curse sailed past his remains, tearing into the trees behind him like a cleaver attacking tooth picks. The wet slumping sound as his dissected body collapsed made her want to hurl. A soft hissing laughter broke the brief silence that followed, drawing their attention towards the other end of the courtyard.

"A welcoming party? For me? You shouldn't have."

No, no, no! She didn't want to believe what her eyes were telling her. He was walking confidently down the middle of the yard, showing a total lack of need to use cover. His tall lithe frame was draped in a black shining robe, swishing softly as he walked towards them. The moonlight illuminated his pale waxy skin, the features no longer reflecting a man, reminding them more of a snake. But it was his blood red shining eyes that choked her breath away, unmeasurable malice and hatred simmering beneath the surface. The sheer dark presence of the man sapped at her lungs, even making the snow around him billow gently, as if willingly making a path for him.

He was the bogeyman mothers scared their children with to make them behave. He was the terror they read about in history books. He was death and horror personified. He was a nightmare made flesh. You-Know-Who. Voldemort. She had always considered people who were afraid of saying his name out loud as weak, but she now understood. She now comprehended the reason. Reading about his atrocities was far different from actually laying eyes on him.

A sudden flash of light snapped her out of her terror, making her glance behind her. A photographer. A reporter, who looked terrified out of his mind as he ducked back into the house. Why would Amelia have a reporter at her manor... ? Her eyes widened in shock. She knew. She knew he would be coming so she had someone ready to document it. Proof that he had had once more risen. The man seemed to reach the same conclusion.

"Ah, so you knew I was coming. You think that picture will leave this place? You think that any of you will live past this night? Foolish. KILL THEM ALL!"

His roaring voice made her dive into cover as spellfire once mere pelted them, but this time they had _him_ helping. Where his wand turned the entire landscape was changed, no shields seemed to hold against his onslaught and even transfigured cover only lasted for a heartbeat. They returned fire as often as they could, but he merely stood there, in the middle of open field, mocking them. His movement was like that of a snake, slithering out of the way of spells, using the smallest amount of effort necessary, or simply batting away their return fire like it was a pesky annoying fly.

"Keep moving fools! Do not become easy targets!" Amelia's roaring voice echoed over the courtyard. The woman was personally bombarding the man with everything she had, seeming to be the only one who actually made him put some effort in. Tonks was mesmerized by the way her wand moved, using one spellchain after another, smoothly incorporating the ending motion of one spell into the starting motion of the next one, raining down fire on her enemy. But she could not pierce his defenses, could not land a hit on him, cursing audibly as he parried everything thrown his way. His retaliation came in the form of a sudden Expulso Curse, landing right next to her feet, throwing her against a tree. Her body armor seemed to have saved her from dying outright, but she was in the open, utterly exposed. Voldemort laughed cruelly.

"Good bye Minister Bones, after I have killed you I will finish what I started sixteen years ago and kill that little slut you are hiding in Hogwarts."

Amelia's eyes held rage and defiance, but she saw desperation in them as the man raised his wand. "Accio!" She shouted, steadying her feet as the spell ripped Amelia across the ground, sending her barreling into her. Voldemort just looked annoyed, like she was only delaying the inevitable and turned his wand towards them. Tonks tried to drag them into cover but she knew there was no way she would make it in the time, she was going to die here.

A sudden flash of heat and light lit up the entire clearing, a ball of fire materializing in the middle of the field, between her and her would-be killer. The source of the flash had melted the snow around him, leaving a circle of bare ground. She blinked the spots out of her eyes, her nightvision slightly ruined by the flash. An etheral trilling danced across the ground, a bird's song, yet she could feel the way it wormed into her body, removing her fear, stopping her panic. Courage blossomed underneath as warmth encompassed her mind, bolstering her strength. She looked up at the source of the sound, flying across the field. A Phoenix. It disappeared in a ball of flame, leaving its passenger behind.

Dumbledore. Yet standing resolutely in front of Voldemort it was not the Dumbledore she knew. It was not the kind gentle professor with the twinkling eyes, or the joking Headmaster that randomly added strange words to his speeches. His entire presence flooded the clearing, raising the small hairs on her skin as his magic rippled around him. The soft and wise blue eyes were hard as sapphire, untold amounts of power swirling in his stern gaze. His colorful blue robes billowed in an unseen wind, making the remaining snow and dirt around him dance in the air.

She understood. This was not her Dumbledore. This was the Albus Dumbledore the older witches and wizards still told stories about. The enraged Albus Dumbledore that had walked down the streets of Berlin, radiating enough magic to make muggles delusional from the sheer pressure, rattling the very buildings that decorated the broken streets. All the while throwing around the dark wizards of Grindelwald's magical Schutzstaffel division like a child discarding broken toys.

"Hello Tom."

"Dumbledore. You shouldn't have come here." Voldemort's voice was no longer calm, there was rage vibrating in his every word.

"I am disappointed to see that the rumors were true. You have abandoned all semblances of humanity."

"Foolish old man, you understand nothing. I have risen beyond the limits of mere mortals, I can not be killed nor defeated."

"No man can truly be immortal Tom, all they can do is delay the inevitable."

"Tom is dead, he died a long time ago."

"I see." Dumbledore said as he prepared his wand. "So it has come to this."

"It has always been like this, you have merely been too blind and senile to see it." Voldemort snarled.

"I can not allow you to hurt these people Tom."

Voldemort laughed, a cold hissing laughter filled with mocking.

"Allow? That is unfortunate, because you will die with them tonight."

Faster than Tonks could blink, he twisted his wand, sending a spell so black that it seemed to suck in the light around it straight at the Headmaster. Yet unlike what one would expect from someone of his age, he nimbly sidestepped it, waving his own wand like a conductor directing a symphony. The very ground around them came to life, dogs, lions and tigers forming out of tree, earth and rock, all of them spreading out and charging Voldemort. Tonks remembered that he was a Master of Transfiguration, having spent more than a decade teaching the art at Hogwarts before becoming Headmaster. She could see it now, where as Voldemort dodged and moved between spells, the very battlefield itself seemed to bend under Dumbledore's will, animals jumping out the ground to block spells while constantly hounding him. Chains as thick as her legs erupted from the ground underneath Voldemort, but he shredded them to pieces before they even fully formed. Trees and pillars would unnaturally bend towards him, hunting him everywhere he went. It was magnificent to watch, yet terrifying in its power all the same.

A sudden smack on the back of her head made her swirl around, coming face to face with Amelia.

"This isn't the time to sit on your ass and stare at others, get your head in the game and help your squad Auror!"

"Right, sorry." She nodded sheepishly, sprinting to help the left the flank. It was a three against four, so she quickly engaged the fourth Death Eater that seemed to be raining down spells on them. He eagerly turned towards her, hammering down spells at her almost faster than she could think. Fuck, clearly not a rookie. Her footing slipped slightly on the frozen ground, forcing her to throw up a shield instead of dodging. The dark blue cutting spell hit her shield, but instead of bouncing off, a part of it went right through, slicing through her robes and leaving a deep cut in the tree behind her. Dark cutters. Goddamn it.

She had a suspicion of who she was facing off against, there was one Death Eater very well known for his expertise in cutters. Judging by the constant barrage of different dark cutters sent at her she guessed he was her opponent. Antonin Dolohov, the man who cut the Prewett's to pieces during the first war. She felt a surge of confidence, if it was him then he had only escaped from Azkaban less than a week ago, he would not be up to his full strength yet. Another cutter tore through her shield, nicking her side, leaving a small wound. She swore, weakened or not, he was still not an easy opponent.

A sudden explosion of colliding magic ripped across the field from where Voldemort and Dumbledore were fighting, sending her tumbling to the ground, losing grip of her wand in the process. Dazedly she tried to get her bearings, but Dolohov had not been as affected by the shockwave as her. He jumped on top of her, holding a small sharp piece of shattered rock in his hand, pushing it towards her neck. She cursed her small stature as he pressed harder on her arms, bringing it ever closer to her flesh. She pushed with all her strength but his sheer body weight was moving the sharp tip ever closer to her jugular.

"Schhh, just let it happen little girl. Accept your end and you can stop struggling."

"Like hell I will!" She snarled.

Tonks cleared her mind before focusing her magic into her right arm, her unique gift rippling to life. There was a reason Metamorphmagi were highly valued, and it wasn't just because of her skill in infiltration. Her muscles suddenly bulged, increasing in size to the proportions of a body builder, the tendons strengthened and her very bones became denser, more compact, harder. With a growl she squeezed his left arm, right underneath the wrist, hearing the satisfying snaps as both the bones broke under the sudden pressure. The sharp stone slipped from his now limp hand as he screamed in pain, allowing her to get her knees underneath his body and propel him away. She dove for her wand, intending to smash his face in with a curse, but when she turned around her eyes widened in terror.

Voldemort cut his hand with his wand, splattering the blood across the field before uttering a guttural incantation. Blood magic. A massive wall of red flames rose from thin air, encompassing the entire yard. She blanched as she saw the sheer size of it, towering over all of their heads and reaching from side to side. With the whooshing sound of an incoming train it rushed straight at them. She didn't even know how to begin defending against something like that, it would cook them all alive.

Dumbledore however seemed as calm as ever, staring impassively at the enormous wall of death as he traced a rune made out of pure magic in the air in front of him. The tip of his wand was glowing silver as he stabbed it into the rune, twisting his wand in the process. The entire wall of flame that had been there only a second earlier, suddenly turned into wisps of smoke, dissipating in the faint wind. Transmutation, she realized. Alchemy. Everyone knew he had been Nicholas Flamel's apprentice, but reading about it was very different from actually seeing the lost art in action.

A deep tearing pain suddenly ripped into her shoulder, cutting through her flesh all the way to the bone as she was thrown to the unforgiving ground. A scream of pain tore out of her throat as the blinding agony fully hit her. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She had taken her eyes off Dolohov, of course the man would capitalize on such a damn rookie mistake. Mad-Eye would have her skin for this if he was alive. Constant vigilance her arse.

She tried to throw a Flesh-Knitting Charm at the wound, but instead of healing it, it felt like the wound had been doused in molten lead, burning and writhing underneath her skin. She groaned in pain, fucking dark magic, goddamn dark cutters. Of course it would be resistant to healing. Settling for the next best thing she instead transfigured her sleeve into a compression bandage, hissing as it settled tightly around the open wound. At least she wouldn't bleed to death yet.

She barely had time to catch her breath before she was forced to dodge again, Dolohov coming barreling through the brushes to finish the job. Their fight started up again but her wound was clearly affecting her more than Dolohov's now splintered arm. The bastard had probably thrown a Numbing Charm at it, but she couldn't replicate the act because of the dark magic still lingering in her flesh. More and more of his cutters were starting to slip through her defenses, scoring light cuts on her body. Shit shit shit.

Trying to not panic she instead forced herself to focus on Moody's words. _All wizards have a pattern, a favorite move, a favorite spell, some gesture they always fall back on. Recognize it and exploit it._ She poured everything into her fight, desperately searching for it. Was that it? Dolohov would always shield after he was forced to dodge to the left repeatedly, giving him time to regain his balance. She had to make sure, had to be certain it was a regular move. Two Banishing Charms aimed at right left made him dodge twice. There! He shielded her Severing Charm again.

_Use the battlefield to your advantage, anything can be used as a weapon._ Moody's words rang in her head, but the field was only filled with broken marble pillars and shattered stone walls. _Anything?_ A small grin grew on her lips as she felt a surge of confidence. She had to time it perfectly. She dodged behind a tree, sending a Blasting Curse slightly to the right of Dolohov, forcing him to the left. She followed it up with another quick Cutting Curse, making him dodge again. Now!

Tonks roared out "Expulso", making Dolohov reflexively raise a magical shield to block the strong spell. Yet unlike the earlier ones it wasn't aimed at him, but slightly in front of him instead. The spell smashed into the collapsed marble pillar that lay between them, exploding on the spot, shattering the entire thing into small pieces. His shield might have easily blocked the magical properties of the spell, but now he was instead met with a hail of razor-sharp shrapnel that came at him with the force of a shotgun blast, ripping through his shield like a hot knife through butter before tearing into his body. Muscle and tendons gave way to the unforgiving stone as it literally tore him to pieces, scattering his remains all over the tree behind him. Nothing would stand up again after that.

Tonks slumped to the ground in relief, panting heavily through clenched teeth as her shoulder throbbed and ached. Voldemort however noticed Dolohov's death and became enraged.

"Enough of this!" He roared, releasing a wave of pure concentrated magic, ripping through Dumbledore's transfigurated animals like they were paper, tearing the bark from the trees close to him as the wave pummeled the grounds.

"It is time to end this foolish resistance." The tip of his wand became engulfed in dark red flames, writhing and crawling as if trying to escape the confines of the thin wood. She paled as she recognized it. Fiendfyre. Bewitched flames. Cursed fire. Was the madman actually going to release the cursed flames here? The ICW itself had banned the use of the spell centuries ago. Even Dumbledore seemed troubled, starting to gather magic in his wand, a soft white light illuminating the ground around him.

Just as he was about to release it he froze, cocking his head as if in question. His change of expression was strange, she hadn't seen anything like that on his face during the battle. It was... uncertainty. Hesitation. Maybe even fear? What could _he_ possibly fear? He suddenly snapped back to the present, instantly dispelling the wards surrounding the property with a wave of his wand.

"We are leaving. Now."

With a sharp crack he was gone, followed shortly by the whoosh of Portkeys and cracks of Disapparation as his Death Eaters followed.

What the hell? She looked at Dumbledore but he seemed just as confused, staring at the spot where Voldemort had been standing with a contemplative look on his face. What exactly had just happened?

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_**A/N**__: There we go, my first attempt at writing a proper magical battle, using one of my favorite characters, Tonks, who for some reason always seems to be butchered into some constantly stumbling helpless little maiden in most fanfics. Opinions?_


	17. Partner

_**A/N**__: Thanks for the reviews guys, good to see you are enjoying the story!_

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**Chapter 17: Partner**

Green eyes watched the man slowly patrol along the perimeter of the Malfoy wards, waiting patiently for him to pass him by. The man seemed bored, puffing on a small cigar as he continued his routine sweep. A small rustle in the bushes caught his attention, making him stop and look, not noticing the invisible presence that snuck up behind him. A hand clamped over his mouth as the sharp dagger smoothly slipped between his ribs, cutting through the tender muscles that made up his heart, quickly stealing his life on the spot.

Harry Potter looked down with contempt at the Death Eater, pulling out the Black heirloom dagger from his back. The ornate dagger was spotless as he removed it, not a trace of blood to be found. Enchanted with the Withering Curse it drained the very moisture around it, making for quick bloodless kills. No one but a Black could pull it out once it was stabbed into someone. Quickly transfiguring the corpse into a pebble he slipped it into his pocket, his habit of leaving no evidence behind still as useful as ever.

He walked up to the daunting Malfoy wards, getting a feel for the buzz of magic in the air. He had left his post at the Bones Manor just minutes earlier, leaving the moment he saw Voldemort arrive. He had stood guard for three nights now, using his days at Hogwarts to catch up on sleep. It was not easy changing your sleeping pattern on the fly, but with the help of potions he had managed to get adequate rest. Not even wizards could remain alert without sleep. Still, a messed up sleeping pattern was a small price to pay if he succeeded. It was also the only time he truly knew what Voldemort would do, giving him an open window to infiltrating this place as he was gone.

The humming feel of the wards was familiar, this was not the first time he was entering this place. The Dark Mark ward was as easy to bypass as the last time, Malfoy foolishly connecting it to most of his heavy offensive wards. There was far too much of Voldemort in him to make it trigger as he passed through. It was the second ward that needed some work though. The Intent Ward. When he had slipped into the manor five years ago he had barely known who the Malfoy's were, his only goal being the retrieval of the cursed diary. The intent wards had thus sensed no ill intent from him towards the inhabitants and let him slip through. This time, however, he most certainly had bad intentions. His grin spread underneath the invisibility cloak.

Crouching down to make sure no one would see the brief spell flashes, he started casting charms on himself. Multiple Calming Charms followed by a heavily overpowered Cheering Charm. He suddenly felt utterly relaxed, like he was floating in a sea of clouds, having no anger or hate inside of him. He couldn't even fathom why he would want to hurt a fly, let alone the people in manor. With that in mind he walked right through the intent ward, riding his wave of euphoria through the delving ward. The second he passed the wards he reluctantly dispelled the charms, feeling his former focus return to him.

He wished he could take credit for his way of bypassing the wards, but it had been his mother who had speculated upon the weaknesses of various wards in her journal. He wondered how dangerous Lily Potter truly had been. The more he used charms the more he realized how useful they were in every possible situation. If the sharp woman hid even half as much as she showed, then she had been a real titan in her time. He strongly doubted the protection she had bestowed on him upon her death had been accidental, he doubted he was the first child protected by his parents.

He softly made his way over the grounds, his silenced footsteps not disturbing a single fallen branch as his invisible presence glided towards the intimidating manor. He hoped Amelia had taken his warning to heart and stationed a proper amount of protection at her home, otherwise the time he would have at his disposal would be severely diminished.

When she had been elected he had entertained the idea of getting his OWLs right at the spot, but on second thought had discarded the idea. Staying in the castle was proving to be far too useful. It provided him with a fantastic alibi whenever something happened, after all, who would even suspect a student who was supposed to be holed up in a school to be the guilty one. It also left him relatively safe from Voldemort's possible attacks, only a fool would assault the castle directly, unless they had an army at their disposal. But even with an army he doubted the man would attack the place as long as Dumbledore reigned there, the man's considerable talent at transfiguration in a place filled with already animated soldiers would be a real nightmare to face against.

Another guard stood at the doors, yet his soundless invisible presence showed no evidence of approaching besides the small indentations left in the powdery snow. Lobbing a pebble to the guards left he once again let his dagger slip into the mans back, his muffled gargle almost inaudible against his stifling hand. The man joined the first pebble in his pocket as Harry checked the doors for any additional warding. Satisfied that it was safe, he made his way towards the main dining room of the manor. He knew exactly where he needed to go.

There was a reason he had humiliated Malfoy right before the Christmas holidays, and it wasn't just to send a message to the rest of the house. No, a proud pureblood like Malfoy, who had gone through his entire life being pampered and treated like a prince, would be enraged at the thought that someone considered him a weak insect. He would thirst for revenge and hunger for the power to enable it. There was little surprise in Harry's eyes when he sensed the Dark Mark on the boy as he returned to the castle. He had gone to the only power even his beloved father respected, he had gone straight to Voldemort.

Harry chuckled dryly as he moved deeper into the manor, Lucius really should teach his son some Occlumency if he intended to house the Dark Lord at his manor. The boy's thoughts were filled with terrified images of Voldemort and his unnaturally large snake that he always kept near him. Malfoy had even heard other Death Eaters say he left the snake warded inside his throne room whenever he left the place, most of them wondering why he would invest so much time into protecting a simple reptile. His eyes glinted in the muted candlelight that lit up the gloomy manor, he knew very well why Voldemort would go through the effort.

Harry ghosted past a living room filled with Death Eaters, some of them wearing masks, the majority of those no doubt rookies. The veterans and Azkaban escapees made no effort to hide their identity, taking pride in their openness. He had a brief urge to violently attack them, tear them to pieces with dark magic, but quickly forced the feeling down, knowing where the reckless impulse had come from. He clamped his Occlumency up even tighter, he would not let the shade distract him from his goal.

At the end of a crossing set of narrow hallways he found the door he was looking for, feeling the angrily buzzing magic that protected it. He sent tendrils of his own magic out to probe it, being careful to not trigger any of the alarms, recognizing only parts of the incredibly intricate design that left the place almost impenetrable. Well, impenetrable for anyone besides Voldemort. Or, he thought with a grin, someone that could mimic his magical signature.

Bringing his wand up to the ward he started focusing the foreign magic that flowed through his system, channeling it into the entire runic scheme. While a common method for powering up old wards, if used in excess it would cause the runes to fizzle out as they went over capacity, overloading the entire system. If anyone else attempted it, the wards would lash out upon detecting the wrong magical signature, but that was not a problem for him. Forcing the other magic, _his_ magic, into his wand, he let it pour into the ward, watching as hundreds of runes lit up all over the door. There was something strangely poetic about using his own power against him. The silence was broken by a humming sound as more and more of his magic poured into the door, the soft vibration increasing in volume.

Harry suddenly heard footsteps approach down the hall, mentally cursing the timing. The Death Eater was going to walk right past the door, there was no chance he wouldn't notice the thing lit up like a Christmas tree. As predicted the man suddenly stopped, turning his head towards the strange occurrence. He pulled out his wand, moving closer to investigate. Shit! There was no way Harry could remove his own wand from the scheme now, he was already going over the capacity of the runes. Aborting the overloading now would probably lead to a cascading failure of the entire runic ward, most likely ending in an explosion.

Pulling his dagger out with his left hand he quickly snapped his wrist back, letting it fly towards the surprised man. A small wandless Banishing Charm propelled it far faster than his sloppy form would allow, sinking it into his throat to the hilt. A shocked groan escaped from the man's lips as he vainly tried to remove it, but the Black enchantments wouldn't allow it. A strong wizard could do it, a dying one in pain had no chance. Harry looked on with morbid fascination as the Withering Curse took hold, watching as the man's face withered before his eyes, slumping to his knees before collapsing with a soft thud. He snorted quietly, he had been aiming for his heart.

He turned back to the door, watching as small sparks danced all over it as the strain on the runes became too much, fizzling around his face, threatening to burn him, before suddenly going quiet with an audible snapping sound. The light in the runes died and Harry shakily removed his wand. The ward was destroyed. Retrieving his dagger he quickly transfigured the corpse into another pebble to join the rest, before throwing a Silencing Charm at the door. Opening it he could barely see the dim light illuminating the coiled form in the corner of the room. Nagini. His goal. His prize.

Even with how soundless he was, the snake still stirred, raising its head and tasting the air. He moved steadily towards it, knowing it would sense him. Not even a Cushioning Charm on the soles of his feet would him from the acute senses of the reptile, the thing feeling the very faint tremors in the floor around it. It hissed towards him, trying to catch the scent of whatever was disturbing it. His Scent Nullifying Charm bought him time as he closed the distance, his dagger already ready for the strike.

_"Who is there?"_ It asked in Parseltongue.

_"Your master."_ He hissed back.

The snake froze in sudden confusion and that was the only opening he needed. Moving as quick as his limbs allowed, he plunged the dagger into its head, piercing through both skull and brain matter in the same split second. He quickly bit his palm and placed it on the convulsing snake, knowing that his blood eased the transfer. With a last twitch the reptile stilled and he could feel the familiar surge of vile putrid filth flow up his hand, fighting against the protection his mother had granted him as he absorbed it. Compared to the darkness he already held the amount that flowed into him was like a snowflake in a blizzard, yet the agonizing pain still brought him to his knees. He grit his teeth to not scream out, there was no guarantee that the Silencing Charm on the door would block the sound escaping through the walls.

The Horcrux was the smallest of them all, being the last one Voldemort had made. Each time he split his soul it became exponentially smaller, yet Harry could still feel the way it melded inside of him. The six other shattered pieces that lingered in his mind in an uniform mass, suddenly melted together as the last piece of the puzzle arrived, forming together into what he had so long craved, a complete soul inside of him. The second the transfer was complete he brought his full magic to bear, not daring to hesitate even one inch as his tendrils of magic viciously attacked the shadow, forcing it bend and crumple underneath his soul. Voldemort fought back, fighting with everything it had, sending pain into every nerve that coursed through his body, trying to make him expel his dinner and choke on paralyzed lungs at the same time. But Harry had fought him for seven years now, battled him every moment of his life, knowing his every trick and way of torment. He simply would not allow himself to fail, would not allow himself to become a mere vessel of the being. Not when he was this close. Not ever.

Warmth bubbled underneath his skin as the now familiar protection of his mother rose up to full power, the foreign sensation of love and caring acting like acid against the shade itself. The laws of equivalent exchange no longer bound Harry, there was no risk of his own soul shattering as he molded his enemy into him. His burning magic tore through the darkness, shattering its mind, its consciousness, its very being to pieces as he drew in the magic that fed it. Shattered memories became cleared, the pain in his limbs lessened and he could feel the shadow crumbling underneath his sheer focused will. With the feeling of an unnaturally large pus filled abscess being drained, the pressure in his head lessened, the putrid filth burning to nothingness under his power.

He drew a shuddering breath as his sweat drenched form lay next to the dead snake, idly noticing that his ears were bleeding. Hesitantly, ever carefully, he started lowering his Occlumency shields, delving his mind for any traces left, searching for an enemy that would try to pounce as his guard was down. His eyes widened in disbelief as a feeling of sheer accomplishment overcame him. There was nothing left. No emotions that poisoned his, no thoughts that corrupted his own, no dark influence that would steer his wand, no whispering voice that would fuel his nightmares every night. For the first time in seven years he completely relaxed his mind, letting his shield drop away completely.

He was complete. He was free! Harry clenched his fists in victory, having to fight the urge to roar his victory for the entire world to hear.

He snapped back to reality as he realized where he was, choosing to focus his thoughts on the current situation for now. He absently summoned his wand to his hand as he stood up. He marveled at how painlessly the magic performed, no longer having to wrest it under his control, force it to his bidding by sheer force of will. His magical signature had probably changed once again, as the parts that once had inhabited him became a part of his new self. He did not care, it was inconsequential, he only relied on blood wards for his personal possessions regardless.

Smirking happily he added the snake to his collection of pebbles, only imagining Voldemort's rage when he found only an empty room waiting for him. He silently retraced his steps, moving through the dim silent corridors before slipping through the main doors once more. He glanced at his watch only to curse silently, thirty minutes had already passed, he would need to keep moving, there was no guarantee that Amelia would delay him that long.

He froze as he once more approached the wards. Shit. The Dark Mark ward that had previously been so easy to bypass, was now suddenly a massive obstacle. He would not have time to slowly breach it, Malfoy did not invest in cheap wards. Malfoy did not invest in cheap anything. They were high quality runic constructs that would probably take him hours to bypass quietly, provided that he even succeeded in the first place. He frowned as he once more pulled out his wand from his wrist holster, this would not be quiet. It was more than likely that he would be discovered today. Just as he was about to start hammering the ward with heavy duty spells, a small line of runes near him lit up, forming a circle on the ground in the middle of the ward line. He recognized the pattern, a magic nullifying scheme. It burst into life with a small rushing sound before tearing a hole in the ward right at his location, leaving him with a open hole through the wards.

Understanding suddenly came to him as a grin split his face. He was complete now, it was time for his partner to finally join the fray. He checked his watch once more before walking through the hole, giving a theatrical bow to his unseen helper as he cleared the oppressive ward. He made no effort to look for him, knowing that he wanted to remain unseen.

A rushing sound interrupted his bow, making him turn on the spot, Disapparating the same second as an enraged Voldemort appeared next to the broken ward. Harry appeared outside the Hogwarts wards with a wide victorious grin on his face, now it was time for the games to truly begin.


	18. What a pleasant surprise

**_A/N:_** _Lots of feedback from the last chapter again, nice. As for people asking about his sidekick, I won't be giving away that information that easily. _  
_As for milking the story or it seeming hurried, I disagree, I don't want to fall into the trap several other authors have fallen into, where they write hundreds of thousands of words just because they want to extend the story, not realizing that it turns uninteresting and boring when it's nothing but fillers. This story has a rather brisk pace and I intend to keep that up. I prefer short and sweet over long and tedious. _  
_Regarding leaving explosives at the Malfoy house, I wanted to highlight his need for hurry and avoiding detection, as getting caught in the manor would have been a certain death sentence if Voldemort showed up. _  
_As for my style of writing changing, that's probably very true. It is my first story so I'm no doubt still trying to find my groove, my style changing (hopefully improving?) the more I write._

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**Chapter 18: What a pleasant surprise**

Tracey checked her appearance in the mirror, waiting patiently for Daphne to finish up as she put the finishing touches on her make up. She strapped her wand to her wrist holster, feeling the comfortable weight of the wood settle against her arm. Harry had urged them all to get one and she had to admit it was a brilliant invention, once she got used to it she was able to draw her wand with a snap of her wrist. Daphne came out of the bathroom, grabbing her bag.

"You ready Trace?" She asked.

"Yeah, lets go."

They walked out of her room, taking the narrow steps down to the Slytherin common room. Neither of them walked anywhere alone, the tension in the house was slowly becoming unbearable. A smile spread on her lips when she spotted Harry waiting for them, leaning against a dark green sofa with his face in a tome as usual. A dumber girl would have thought he was leaving himself completely open, but Tracey knew he always seemed to have a sense of what was happening around him. Predictably he looked up as soon as they entered, giving them a small smile.

"Good morning." He greeted.

"Good morning."

"Morning Harry, nice to see you up early for once." She replied. He had been showing up late for breakfast all week, looking incredibly weary. She stopped, looking him over. Something seemed different, something had definitively changed. She studied his casual posture trying to figure out what it was. He still had slight bags under his eyes but it wasn't nearly as bad as the day before.

"What happened to you?" Daphne asked.

Huh, figures she would notice it right away, she was always the more observant of the two of them.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, grinning faintly, not even attempting to deny that something had happened.

"You seem... relaxed, less high-strung."

"Like you just got laid." Tracey added, returning his grin. Now that Daphne had mentioned it, she did see it. He had always been incredibly high-strung, like a bow stretched to the maximum capacity, ready to be fired at any given moment. She hadn't seen it at first, he was far too good at hiding the tension underneath a veneer of tranquility. Occlumency, Daphne had explained, the reason why he could outwardly appear so calm. But now it seemed like the string itself had been cut, like the constant pressure behind his eyes had melted away. He still radiated a sort of casual danger, like a cat constantly waiting to pounce on its prey. But it felt more controlled now, less like he was about to explode any second, less like a compressed spring lurking underneath the surface.

"How do you know that isn't exactly what happened?" He asked, closing his tome.

Daphne snorted.

"Please, if that was all it took to wind you down, it would have happened a long time ago."

Tracey did agree with that sentiment, there were quite a few rumors flying around about his supposed late night escapades. No one could quite tell how much of it was simply made up, but she did adhere to the saying of 'where there's smoke there's fire'.

"Lets just say I had... a lot on my mind." He seemed to find the phrase amusing, smiling at his choice of words.

Tracey exchanged a puzzled glance with Daphne, but she seemed none the wiser about what he meant.

"I take it your mind is lighter now then?" She asked.

This time he smiled, a real smile that they very rarely saw from him. Not the small amused smirks or wry grins, but a genuine one.

"Yeah, you could definitively say that." He agreed.

Suspecting that they wouldn't be getting any more out of him she turned towards the common room door.

"Come on, lets head to breakfast, I'm starving."

"Sounds good." He said, slipping the tome into his expanded pocket. One day she would find out just how much stuff he hid in there.

They moved past the sleepy students, walking side by side towards the Great Hall. She frowned as she saw Malfoy glare at Harry, that boy didn't seem to know when to give it a rest. She knew he had probably noticed the glare, and the way he just blatantly ignored it seemed to really get on the blond boy's nerves. To her it felt like a powder keg, but the nonchalance Harry displayed regarding the tension in the house made her think he regarded it as a firecracker in comparison. Tracey hoped he remembered that even a firecracker could tear your fingers off if it exploded in your fist.

"So Harry," Daphne started, "will there be anything _interesting_ in the Daily Prophet today?"

She snorted at the way she said interesting, like talking about a venomous spider she'd rather not touch with a ten-foot pole. The things Harry found interesting usually meant terrible news for a large group of people. But he always seemed to know about any big occasions, even when he didn't mention it, they could still see the way he would tense as the paper arrived. In fact the only time she could remember seeing him taken completely off guard was when the paper broke the news about the Azkaban attack almost a week ago.

He seemed to consider the question for a second before giving them a mysterious smile.

"Interesting? Yes, most certainly. I'm not certain which people will find it the most interesting though."

Daphne hummed at his answer, no doubt pondering his words. Tracey instead chose to groan at his words.

"Merlin, it's too early for your riddles, I wish you'd just give us a straight answer once."

He just laughed in response.

"Now where would the fun in that be Trace? But it's funny that you should mention it, because today's news will no doubt be related to a _Riddle_.

He seemed amused at his own choice of words again, making her huff in derision, not understanding his emphasis on the word riddle. His lighthearted expression however soon melted away, giving way to his usual focused gaze as they entered the hall. They had barely walked ten steps before Harry was jumped by a redheaded girl, engulfing him in a tight hug. Harry easily returned it, his voice carrying amusement again.

"Good morning to you too Susan."

The girl flushed slightly but made attempt to release him.

"Thank you Harry." She mumbled into his shoulder.

Harry seemed to understand what she meant, nodding at her.

"So I take it from your happy greeting that she is all right?"

Susan tilted her head back, peering into his eyes.

"Yeah, figures you'd know what was going on. Auntie sent me a letter this morning, telling me to extend her thanks to you for the timely warning. The rest of the letter explained most of what had happened. I know she didn't tell me everything, but I know that you were the reason she was prepared."

He smiled down at her and Tracey was amused to watch the way a blush grew on Susan's face, making her slowly resemble a tomato.

"Well, you can tell her it was most certainly my pleasure and that I'm happy that she's unharmed."

"I will Harry, but I want you to know that I am in your debt now, whatever you ask I will help with."

He gave her a very wide grin at that.

"I'll keep that in mind Susan, but I'm not sure you should be giving out such promises right now, people might get the wrong idea."

Susan seemed puzzled before looking around, students had been trickling into the Great Hall the entire time, all of them now staring at them. She even spotted Hannah sitting at the Hufflepuff table, giving her a massive leer, mischievousness practically glittering in her eyes as she gave her two thumbs up. Susan jumped back from Harry as if scalded, her face now fuming red.

"Oh, uh, r-right, I'll talk to you later, okay! Bye!"

Tracey guffawed as she watched the girl scamper back to the Hufflepuff table, staring at the floor the entire way. Even Daphne seemed amused, the corners of her mouth twitching as she enjoyed the show. Harry just grinned, looking completely unconcerned by the stares they were receiving as he lead them to the Slytherin table.

"So Harry," Tracey started, still chuckling, "anything we should know about?"

He seemed very pleased now, making her wonder if he had actually been expecting the thanks he got.

"It seems things turned out better than I thought they would, which means today's paper will be very interesting."

That killed her laughter on the spot. She glanced at Daphne but she looked just as hesitant to laugh as she was, they had far too much experience with his idea of _interesting_ news. Deciding to just wait for the inevitable to occur, she started piling food on her plate, the suspense increasing her hunger. Harry being pleased surely meant good news, right? It had to, he couldn't be this happy if it was bad news.

"By the way Harry," Daphne started, "will there be a meeting today or will you still be gone?"

He washed down his bacon with a sip of water before answering.

"There will, my evenings will no longer be as time consuming."

"Nice." Tracey mumbled around the apple she was chewing, she had actually missed their meetings. They had never really given a name to their DADA group on Harry's insistence. Names held power he told them, they could easily be overheard and spread around. Simply calling it a _meeting_ however, was less likely to attract attention. She had to agree with that logic, it was better to keep the matter hidden for as long as possible. If people didn't even know the name of the group it just made it even harder for them to uncover it.

There was also the fact that she could practically feel herself improving every time they met. Harry was a demanding teacher, brooking no nonsense or joking around, drilling them hard on simple fighting during every single session. The first time people had showed up in school robes, only to realize they would never do that mistake again, having to bin the ruined garments. Surprisingly he was very competent though, managing to teach them a wide variety of offensive and defensive spells while showing them how to efficiently move around during a battle. Any idiot obviously understood to dodge spells. After all, a key element in the wizarding national sport, Quidditch, was to dodge huge iron balls. But knowing to do it was vastly different from efficiently doing it, always keeping your wand trained on the opponent and never losing sight of him, while using the minimum amount of motion to evade without messing up your wand movement or tripping on uneven ground.

She found it interesting that he never bothered having them duel against each other, saying it was rare they would ever end up in a position where they would be free of distraction and able to focus on only one opponent. Instead he would transfigure the huge storage room they used into caricatures of various settings, like a comfy house, a forest or a city street and have them fight against each other in groups. It was also the first time they got a real taste of the power he hid inside of him, they didn't know how long it took to prepare the landscapes but it was astonishing work regardless. His demonstration against Malfoy had displayed skill, but large area transfiguration also required a huge amount of power.

She had been disappointed the first time they had done it, never realizing how awful they were at something so simple as casting on the move. While Hogwarts taught them the spells very efficiently, they always did it while sitting down at their desk, never having to focus on anything but the spell itself. Suddenly having to move, dodge, block, aim accurately and keep an eye out for both allies and enemies while simple avoiding tripping on some random debris had been a rather startling experience. Tracey had seen it on everyone's faces the first time they fought as teams in the mock battle, they sucked and they knew it.

That realization seemed to have lit a fire under Longbottom's ass though. She didn't know what the deal was with the boy but he had been fighting like a man possessed every time. She had even overheard Granger mention that he would slip out every day to practice in the storage room, improving daily. It showed too, there was no doubt that he was improving the fastest of them all, a notion she would have found ridiculous half a year ago.

Harry's voice interrupted her musings.

"So that's the new guy huh?" He asked.

She followed his gaze to the teacher's table, studying the grizzled old man that sat in Umbridge's old seat. With greying hair and stern brown eyes he seemed rather intimidating, especially with the scar that started as his left eye and extended past his chin. He was a bit overweight, but even with the extra fat you could tell from his wide shoulders that he had some solid mass underneath it. He seemed rather content, not that Tracey was surprised. He had told them he was an Auror, and from what she knew about the preferred age in the profession he would probably be sitting at some table sorting through papers at the Ministry. In comparison this was probably a pretty cushy assignment, even if he did have some papers to grade here as well.

"Oh right," she replied, "you weren't at dinner yesterday. His name is Dornfoot, showed up during the meal, carrying a document from the Minister and told her straight up she was dismissed from her post and should report to the Ministry as soon as possible."

She grinned at the memory, a bit of glee leaking into her voice.

"Umbitch looked like someone had set fire to her pink curtains, sniffing and huffing as she quickly left the table, most of the students cheering at her sour face. Merlin, it was probably the first time I've actually seen McGonagall smile."

He nodded, tearing his eyes away from the man.

"About time, this place needed a competent teacher."

She hummed in agreement, munching on her eggs, she fully agreed on that. The Ravenclaws had acted like it was their birthday and Christmas at the same time when they realized they would actually receive proper education.

The eggs caught in her throat as she heard the approaching flutter of wings, watching with barely disguised apprehension as the owls arrived. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as other students got their papers first, only to cry out in shock. Retrieving her own paper she hesitantly spread it out on the table, staring at the huge picture on the front page before registering the headline.

_"You-Know-Who is back - Attacks Minister!"_

Her eyes bulged as she saw the picture that took up the entire page, You-Know-Who standing in the middle of a yard, surrounded by Death Eaters taking cover on all sides, even his photographic presence seeming to radiate malice. She fought the urge to flinch has his eyes snapped towards her, knowing he was just staring at the reporter that took the picture, not actually looking at her.

"Hummh, they got a picture, nice." Harry muttered.

She looked up from her Daily Prophet in disbelief, staring at him as he calmly chewed on his bacon while reading his paper. She absently noticed Daphne mirror her expression, this was his idea of interesting news?

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise." He concluded, studying the picture.

Pleasant surprise? _Pleasant surprise?!_ She palmed her face, hearing the shocked and scared shouts spreading across the Great Hall. Just great, their only real friend at Hogwarts was officially insane.

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_**A/N:**__ A slightly happier Harry this chapter, but considering he probably just had his first proper nights sleep in seven years and got to wake up with the knowledge that he wasn't slowly going insane for once, I'd say it's pretty justified._


	19. Silver and blood

**Chapter 19: Silver and blood**

Patrick Rivington leisurely sipped his glass of Firewhiskey, enjoying the way the fiery liquid would burn his throat before settling as a scorching heat in his stomach. Anticipation was tingling in his limbs, they would finally be doing something now. When he had first heard about the Dark Lord rising he had expected orders to attack his enemies the same week, yet they never came. They were told to sit quiet, wait for the opportune timing. It was frustrating to him, the hungry beast inside of him hungered for fresh prey to hunt. He knew the men around him felt the same, after all, they had surrendered to the beast just like he had. Werewolves all of them. Why fight against the urges when the Ministry treated you like shit regardless.

The dingy little pub he was sitting in was filled with his kind, almost twenty grizzled men, all carrying the same disease, the same curse. Even the bartender in this small Knockturn Alley haven was infected, which was why they tended to gather here for a drink. The pub was old and worn, scarce candles lighting up the area, which was just the way they liked it, their improved eyesight allowed them to see easily in the dark regardless. The residents in the area knew to stay away from this place, it was for Fenrir Greyback's pack, no one else.

He saw Greyback himself leaning against the bar, his large rugged form practically screaming alpha to anyone capable of noticing such things. Greyback was a vicious and brutal looking man, his long yellow nails and pointed teeth only adding to that image. His grey hair and whiskers might make people think of him as old, but his pack knew quite well just how strong the man truly was. Patrick had to admire the man and his goal, to take over the entire wizarding community once their numbers were strong enough. They would use the Dark Lord, follow his orders and obey his commands, until their numbers had risen beyond what could be regulated by the cursed Ministry or controlled by him. Then they would strike, suddenly and from the dark, taking what was rightfully theirs. Descend like wolves upon sheep. The purebloods were idiots if they thought the werewolves would just blindly follow them. Did they think they wouldn't know who had pushed through all the laws that limited their lives? Who had oppressed them so harshly? Fools, their time would come.

Bloodlust boiled in him as the minutes slowly trickled by, eager to move out. Eager to hunt once more. They had to wait for nightfall, when their targets were asleep and when their own kind had the greatest advantages. The quiet of the night let them hear every sound, from heartbeat to soft breathing and the lack of light was to their advantage as they skulked in the shadows. It was three weeks since the Dark Lord has liberated his most faithful from Azkaban and tonight Greyback's pack, the strongest pack in Magical Britain, would finally strike. The Dark Lord had given them six addresses, all of them housing large muggleborn families. The man wanted them all dead, but Greyback told them to only kill the muggles, leaving the magical children alive with bites, so that they could strengthen their own army.

Patrick agreed with the plan, eager to spread his own misfortune on others. He had once been a Hogwarts fourth year, but the day he had been infected he had suddenly been demoted to a subhuman, to a creature. The Ministry hounded him, refused him education, refused him work, cut down his rights. The purebloods who knew what he was would spit at the mere sight of him, looking down their noses at him, like it was his fault he was cursed the carry the wretched Lycantrophy. Then Greyback had found him, offering him a spot in his pack, letting him revel in their raids and attacks and letting the beast inside of him roam free. He had grasped the offer with both hands, becoming his loyal man ever since.

Swallowing another mouthful of the alcoholic beverage his mind wandered to the Death Eaters, wondering what was going on with them. He had expected them to mount attacks much sooner, but Greyback told them that something or someone was interfering with the Dark Lord's plans. He had said that the man had been acting erratically ever since the failed Bones attack, often missing for the entire day before returning in a towering rage. He had even abandoned the Malfoy Manor, choosing to stay at another location where only his Inner Circle was allowed. Greyback never said it out loud, but they all thought it was a sign of weakness to abandon your own territory. Patrick sipped his drink, wondering who or what could have aggravated such a powerful wizard to such a degree.

He glanced at his watch, growling as he saw it was only nine pm, they still had hours to go before they could move out. A sudden tingle ran over his skin before settling as an oppressive faint feeling all around him. Wards, he realized, probably Anti-Apparition, maybe even Anti-Portkey. He wasn't talented enough to sense them but had felt the familiar tingle before when he visited warded locations. The murmur in the pub instantly died down, every man on high alert, looking towards their leader to see if he had any orders. The soft creak of the old battered pub door drew their eyes, watching as it opened wide in front of a strange looking man.

From his body it was clear the wizard was a man, fairly tall yet not seeming too bulky. He was clad entirely in black robes, but they were unlike the usual robes you saw on people. Patrick's eyes narrowed as he realized why they stood out, they were slitted and cut for mobility, just like Auror robes. His face was hidden underneath a hood, the same black material covering his entire head. A normal person would not have been able to see his face in the shadow, but for him it was as clear as day. He was wearing a mask, the same black color covering his face. It seemed to be made out of cloth like his hood, yet was obviously charmed so that no one could see his eyes, only bottomless pits of black. He suppressed a shudder at the haunting image.

The black figure walked into the pub with calm measured steps, the wooden floor creaking softly underneath his feet. Dangerous, Patrick realized. Werewolves had a sixth sense for that, and the man practically radiated it. He heard soft hisses around him and soon understood why, the hairs on his neck rising in apprehension. The man had no scent. Everything had a scent, yet this dark robed man was clearly hiding his. Their kind could smell nervousness, fear and rage, it was as normal for them as simply observing a man was for anyone else. But now they were entirely in the dark, only able to rely on their eyes and ears.

He walked up to the bar, looking at the bartender.

"One Firewhiskey." His voice was garbled, distorted. Some sort of charm Patrick assumed, but he had no idea which one. His education, like several others in this place, had been cut off the moment he was cursed.

The bartender simply looked at Greyback, their pack leader, making no effort to retrieve the drink until he allowed it. Greyback did not seem intimidated at all by the man, his looming massive form seeming even larger now as he stared into the dark obscured face of the stranger.

"You seem to have wandered into the wrong place stranger." There was a hint of a growl in his tone, clearly not amused by this man walking into his territory.

The stranger leaned against the counter, seeming relaxed in the face of their leader. Fool, Patrick thought, a werewolf was far stronger and more resilient than any normal wizard, Greyback could tear him apart faster than he could blink from that distance.

"Oh," he started, "so this is not the place where Fenrir Greyback's pack is gathering for their assault on the muggleborn families?"

Greyback audibly growled and Patrick could practically feel the way the tension in the pub rose, just how did this stranger know about that?

"You seem to know things you shouldn't, stranger. Who are you?"

"You may call me..." There was a brief pause before he continued. "Tom."

"Well. Tom. Why did you come here?"

The man who called himself Tom turned his head to look at all the men that sat in the pub, yet Patrick noted that he always kept Greyback in his sight. Had some sense in his skull at least.

"Why are you following the Dark Lord?" He asked, his distorted voice louder now.

"Do you believe he will reward you? Give you power? His followers are the very men and women who made the laws that discriminate and torment you, do you think they would allow you to gain any power?"

Greyback guffawed as he answered.

"Fool, the Dark Lord serves a purpose now, it will not always be that way. If you came here to turn us against him or test us for him, you made a grave mistake, because you will not leave this place alive."

Utterly unconcerned by Greyback's statement the man replied.

"Yes, your plan to one day rule over the wizards."

Greyback appeared startled, as did others in the pub, this _Tom_ knew far too much. Patrick hated the way he couldn't smell the man, not knowing what the man was feeling. Usually a change in scent would warn them of danger or a change in emotion, yet now they were in the dark, only able to hear his steady breathing and heart rate. That unnerved him, how could the man seem so at peace considering where he stood. Not giving Greyback a chance to reply, Tom continued.

"Do you believe the Dark Lord does not know about your plans? Do you think he did not know about it ever since the First Wizarding War? You are cannon fodder for him, nothing more. Whenever your numbers grow too large you are sent in first in the large battles to whittle you down. He will never allow for your dream to become reality, he has known about it from the start and simply used you like a rabid dog on a leash. The day he achieves victory is the day your use comes to an end, as will your race."

Greyback roared in anger, no longer lounging against the counter, instead towering over the figure.

"It does not matter if he knows, we will still use him against the Ministry, we will still rise to our rightful place as rulers over the weaklings! We are stronger, faster and better. It is our right!"

Tom's dark face seemed to study Greyback for a second before nodded.

"I see, so you will follow him once more. That is unfortunate."

The man made a motion that looked like he was rubbing his temples as if staving off a headache, but from his angle Patrick saw him push something small into his ears with his thumbs. What the hell? Before he could shout out a warning Tom lowered his hand to his pocket and all hell broke loose. A roaring sound erupted out of his pocket, it sounded like a classical concert being played, but the volume was overwhelmingly loud, rattling the very windows of the pub. Patrick covered his ears in agony, suddenly understanding what he had pushed into his ears. Ear plugs. Whatever played the music had to be charmed, a brief memory of the Sonorus Charm being taught at Hogwarts flittering through his mind. The others were no better off, struggling for their wands as the intense sound battered their incredibly sensitive hearing, tearing at their eardrums.

Greyback who had stood right in front of him was the worst off, covering his bleeding ears with his scarred hands, roaring in agony. It felt like only a second had passed since the sound hit them when Patrick saw a long slim object pierce through Greyback's skull, slipping under the jaw and piercing through his entire head. _Tom_ pulled out the thin object, allowing him to get a better look at the blood covered stick. A knife he realized, but it seemed more like a fillet knife used to clean fish with. The faint light shone against the material and Patrick's eyes widened, it was entirely made out of silver, covered in runes. It was weapon made exclusively against their kind.

Even before Greyback's already cooling body could slump to the floor the stranger was moving again, throwing a small packet into the air. All eyes unconsciously followed the small object, but Patrick had a seconds warning when he saw the man abruptly turn his face away from it. He reflexively followed suit the same moment the object exploded, but instead of fire, it erupted in light, the sheer brightness of the sun illuminating the pub for a brief second, drawing renewed cries of agony from the patrons. It had burned straight through their retina, the light-sensitive layer of tissue lining the inner surface of the eye. Already sensitive among normal humans, for werewolves doubly so.

Patrick blinked away the spots from his eyes, turning at the last second had saved his sight, trying to stagger to his feet among the blaring music and confusion. He's attacking our senses he realized. Turning their strongest advantages right against them, making their strength a weakness. The man unleashed a wide area Banishing Charm from his wand, throwing the already struggling men off their feet, ripping wands and weapons from their shaky grips. At their full strength they might have shaken it off, but now they hadn't even seen it coming. Patrick was the only man who had seen it, steadying himself against the bolted down table the second it hit.

He looked up in time to see a small silvery vial flying from the man's hand, shattering against the harsh wooden floor of the pub. The man pointing his wand at his own mouth, summoning what looked like a bubble of air around it, was the only warning he got as the shining substance on the floor vaporized, flooding the pub with a glittering mist. His next breath felt like fire as the fine silver in the mist entered his mouth, his throat and his lungs, burning like someone had poured molten lead down his throat. He coughed and choked in agony, trying to keep from breathing it in, but the burning pain made him gasp in more of the foul substance, convulsing on the floor in a daze. He desperately needed his wand, but it had been blown away, lying somewhere between the tables and the chairs.

Through watering eyes he watched in horror as Tom walked from one convulsing werewolf to another, cleanly decapitating them with a Severing Charm. There was no hesitation, no confusion, it was like he was merely disposing, of what he called, a pack of rabid dogs. The cold efficiency of the action was terrifying and his fear only grew as he saw one pack member after another slump to the floor, lifeless and cold.

Normally fighting werewolves in an enclosed space like this would be suicide, but the roaring sound of the music had shattered their eardrums, leaving them staggering around like drunks, while his steady gait showed that he was unaffected. While werewolves were vastly different from humans, they still shared their physiology, which included their sense of balance located in the inner ear. The sound waves that had shattered their ear drums was wreaking havoc on their vestibular system, destroying their sense of balance, leaving most of them crawling on the floor, blind and helpless as his wand smoothly moved from one to another.

He was hunting them Patrick realized. The same way they had planned to attack the muggleborn families he was now targeting them. This was no fight, no honorable duel, no extended battle. No, this was a cold slaughter, the sole purpose being the extermination of their entire pack. Rage bubbled inside of him as he roared in anger, he would not be put down like some insect, he still had his curse, his disease. The man was as affected by the lack of hearing as the rest of them and when he turned his back towards Patrick to deal with the men in the corner he sensed his chance, roaring across the pub floor before jumping to sink his teeth in his neck. It would not kill him outright, but being bitten instantly transmitted Lycantrophy, leading to pain, fever, convulsions and disorientation, leaving the man at his mercy. Because he was not in his wolf form the man would not fully turn, but he would still suffer from the curse.

_Tom_ seemed to have noticed the way the shadows shifted as he raced across the floor, turning around just as his teeth were descending for his neck. Not having time to raise his wand or his strange long knife, he reflexively lifted his robed arm up to protect his throat. Patrick grinned in triumph as his teeth greedily engulfed on the arm, it did not matter where he bit, as long as he broke the skin the man would be defeated, cursed with his affliction. The enchanted cloth might have protected against tearing, but the magically amplified werewolf strength drove his teeth through it like paper, all of his power focused on his jaw.

His brief moment of triumph shattered along with his teeth as another wave of pain hit him, this time punching him in the mouth with the strength of a steam train. Underneath the cloth his teeth hit unforgiving metal, breaking and splintering like rotten wood. He barely had time to shout out his pain before Tom's wand shot out a Blasting Curse into his shoulder, shattering the bone as it threw him violently across the pub, tumbling into the far wall. Patrick groaned through his ruined mouth, realizing what he had bit into. Armor. The man was wearing armor all over his body. Probably charmed to be weightless considering the ease with which he moved. That's why he had seemed so unconcerned standing so close to Greyback's teeth and nails. He had been expecting the pack leader to refuse his warning. Had expected him to be aggressive. He had come prepared to take them all on and win. The entire pub stank of blood now, the agonized cries having been silenced by Tom's wand. The sweet sickly smell even penetrated through the burning silver, making him gag at the smell of his defeated pack. His slaughtered pack.

The music that had been blaring abruptly stopped and Patrick realized he was the last man alive, lying crumpled on the floor, his body seeming to compete over which part should hurt the most. The sudden lack of movement in the pub seemed haunting, his eyes drawn to _Tom _as he made his way across the bloody floor, his robes stained in red. He looked like a demon out of a nightmare as he advanced, not even dim light hiding the way his feet would stick to the blood that had pooled on the rough surface. When he raised his wand Patrick realized that he would die here tonight, his life wound end. He closed his eyes in terror, old memories of prayers flooding him. What mercy would someone like him get in the afterlife, someone who had murdered children and ate their flesh?

Instead of death he instead felt a wave of pain shoot through his left ear, felt the way his eardrum forcibly healed and became whole again. He realized he could hear again, it was overshadowed by a loud ringing but he could still make out the sound of dripping blood in the pub.

"Look at me." The demon standing in front of him said, his garbled voice piercing through the ringing sound.

Patrick obeyed out of fear, opening his eyes and staring into the concealed darkness that made up his face, staring into the bottomless shadow where his eyes should be.

"You will not die here tonight. You will be my messenger. Go tell your master, your precious Dark Lord, that Tom sends his regards."

Not knowing what else to do he vigorously shook his head in agreement, anything to avoid being slaughtered like the rest.

"Good." Was all the man said before turning on his heel, leaving the stench of the pub behind him as he walked out into the crisp winter air. The brief cold draft snapped him out of his shock and he could feel the way the wards from earlier suddenly dissipated. His pack was gone, he had nothing left now. Realization dawned on him, his only option was to do as the man asked, if he ran without reporting to his Lord then he would no doubt come hunting for him the second he found out that he had survived. If the demon from earlier didn't return to finish his job.

How long had it taken, a minute? Two? Five? He had no concept of time but he knew that the sound of the blaring music would have attracted attention, even if the pub was located far away from the rest of the Knockturn residents. Even if they could not stand to be near his kind, someone would still come to investigate. He needed to get out of here.

With a shaking hand he clutched his Portkey, feeling the world start to spin around him as it activated, already dreading the task of having to inform the Dark Lord of what had happened.


	20. A Black Mystery

_**A/N:**__ Thanks for the reviews, as to the guys asking me to not abandon this story, don't worry, I already have the last few chapters including the epilogue sketched out. Barring a natural disaster I will be finishing it, as I really dislike reading a story only to find out the author abandoned it halfway through._

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**Chapter 20: A Black Mystery  
**

Albus Dumbledore walked towards the rickety tall building located on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, smiling faintly at the original look that greeted him. The house looked like it would collapse at any moment, but he knew it was held up by enough magic to prevent that from happening. The Burrow somehow fit the Weasley's to a tee, strange yet homely. He felt the familiar tingle of magic as he crossed the ward line, slowly moving over his skin before allowing him in. The wards seemed stronger now, Bill Weasley must have returned from Egypt and gone to work on them. A good thing too, he mused, an experienced Curse Breaker could come in very useful in these troubled times.

He knocked on the wooden door, hearing a loud "One moment!" from inside of the house. He waited patiently until the door was opened by a short plump redheaded woman.

"Albus! Come on in, don't stand there in the cold, everyone else except for Severus is already here."

"Thank you Molly, I'm not late am I?"

She waved him off.

"No, no, of course not, everyone just arrived a bit earlier."

"No doubt to take advantage of your excellent cooking." He chuckled as he hung up his coat.

She beamed at his praise, the woman really did love taking care of her guests. She had seemed rather lost with no children living in the usually bustling house and always jumped at the opportunity to cook lavish meals for them whenever they met. Albus knew that she could be rather overbearing at times, but could not really hold it against her, knowing that she only did it because she cared for her family deeply.

He followed her into the large dining room, not the least bit surprised to see the people there already helping themselves to the various plates of food that littered the table. He wasn't joking about her food being popular. He returned the greetings he got as he entered, exchanging brief words with Minerva McGonagall, Arthur Weasley and Dedalus Diggle before taking his seat at the end of the table. While usually Arthur's seat, the man insisted Albus take it during the meetings. He cleared his throat with a small cough, getting their attention.

"Welcome friends, I call to order this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, if you would please take a seat."

"Albus, Severus hasn't arrived yet." Minerva interjected.

He waved away her comment.

"I am aware of that Minerva, but with the recent incident I have no doubt that his time is constrained. Hopefully he will make it to the meeting some time later to offer his unique perspective."

The woman nodded in agreement, as did the others. They were well aware of the additional duties of the Potions Professor.

Once everyone was seated he retrieved the day's paper from his pocket, showing the front page to the members. The grizzly image of a ruined pub in Knockturn Alley followed by the headline _'Werewolf massacre'_ dominated the entire page.

"I assume you have all read the Daily Prophet?"

Getting nods all around, some looking rather queasy, he turned to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Kingsley, any news from your side about the matter?"

The large man gathered this thoughts for a moment before answering.

"The Daily Prophet is actually quite accurate for once, a massacre is how I would describe it. Almost twenty werewolves, most of them wanted criminals and known followers of You-Know-Who, were found dead at the Dark Moon pub last night. However while the paper speculates about the identity of the multiple attackers, our investigation leads us to believe it was in fact only one perpetrator."

"One!?" Diggle blurted out in surprise. Kingsley nodded towards him before continuing.

"Yes, only one. From what we could tell it was a highly coordinated and well planned attack, yet the signs and the foot prints left behind indicate only one person was responsible."

More than one member looked nauseous when they realized why they would be able to trace foot prints so accurately indoors. Wizarding clothes were usually enchanted or simply charmed to repel most dirt and snow, which left only one thing they could have tracked. Blood.

"Traces of silver were found all around the pub, which indicates the suspect used some form of airborne silver to hinder the werewolves. While not lethal in itself, it would no doubt have caused a serious allergic reaction and severely hindered them. It gets more complicated when we actually inspected the bodies though, their eardrums had been ruptured and their eyes showed severe damage unrelated to any spell used against them."

"Unrelated?" Albus murmured. Kingsley nodded, carrying on with his report.

"Yes, at first we were baffled by the result, but our forensics department uncovered traces of magnesium around the rafters of the pub. It was burnt and had left a scorch mark on the ceiling. Further searching found pieces of paper with the same trace, our suspicion being that it was some sort of magnesium charge wrapped in paper. One of the muggleborn Aurors, Daley, said it reminded him of a muggle weapon called a flash bang or a stun grenade, some sort of non-lethal explosive device used by the muggles to blind and disorient people."

He gave Albus a look.

"We also found traces of amplifying runes on the packet, which was probably the reason why it caused such extensive damage to the victims."

Albus frowned at the news. He had hoped it was merely some sort of internal strife among the werewolves, perhaps a territorial dispute. But this, this sounded like someone had carried out a well planned attack on them, crippling them before slaughtering them in cold blood. The fact that the evidence also pointed towards one single wizard or witch was even more disturbing, taking on so many men in an enclosed space was no easy task. The perpetrator had to have tremendous confidence in his own skills and trinkets.

He had briefly considered Voldemort but had to discard it, Fenrir Greyback was found among the dead, he would have little reason to kill his own loyal followers. The use of the runic device also did not fit his style at all, he preferred to use overwhelming magical force against his enemies, not intricate devices.

"You don't think it could be the _boy_?" Kingsley asked him, placing special emphasis on the word boy. Albus knew exactly who he meant, he had speculated about Harry quite bit with the experienced Auror, including all the inconsistencies regarding him.

"What boy?" Molly asked.

Albus waved her question away, not wanting to alarm the members.

"It's not important Molly. Kinglsey, at what time did attack occur?"

"Residents near the location report the sound of loud music between nine pm and three minutes past nine. That it could be heard so far away leads us to believe it was what was used to rupture the victims' eardrums."

Albus felt a weight lift from his shoulders that he hadn't even realized had been there. He gave Kingsley a small smile.

"No it could not have been him then, I spoke to him briefly at that very time, he was returning from the library with his two friends."

"You are certain? You must not forget about Nymphadora." Kingsley pressed.

Albus frowned slightly at the implication that he was mistaken, Kingsley had not taken the death of Alastor Moody too well, he had been an old colleague and friend of the man. It had however lead to them improving the wards around the castle quite a bit, they would now inform him if anyone was Polyjuiced within the confines of the walls. He understood the mention of Nymphadora, because of her Black ancestry they could not fully trust her to keep things a secret. While he knew that she would never go dark, she might still feel an obligation to inform or help her Head of House if he chose to induct her into the Black family.

"What's this about Nymphadora?" Molly blurted out, sounding scandalized.

"Nothing important at all, Molly dear." Albus placated. Nymphadora had become an instant favorite of the woman ever since she heard about her killing Dolohov. The man had cut up Molly's family and she had been terrified for her children ever since he escaped. The woman might not like killing, but was fiercely protective of her children. Nymphadora received the treatment of an honored guest whenever she visited the Burrow now, and Molly would brook no ill words being spoken about her.

There was a reason why this meeting was slightly more exclusive than the others though, not including order members like Nymphadora or Mundungus. While they could count on them not turning dark, they could still be potential information leaks. Turning to Kingsley he gave him a significant look.

"No, there is no doubt that it was him. I walked right by him."

Kingsley nodded, seeming satisfied. The man knew Albus could sense the magic around him, which meant that if he had walked right by Harry he would have sensed his magic. Harry's magic was unique, carrying a significant amount of power that Nymphadora could not hope to match, not to mention hiding an unsettling darkness in it. There was absolutely no doubt that it was Harry he had spoken to during the attack. While reassuring news, it still left the identity of the perpetrator in question.

The fact that they even had suspected Harry troubled him greatly, yet he could understand why, there were simply too many unanswered questions regarding him. He thought he was so smart, so clever, yet Albus had seen it all before in another boy. Too confident in his own ability to hide things, he did not realize some people could see right through his mask. Harry was hiding things, hiding his true self from the students and even some of the teachers. He had been caught off guard by the boy during their first meeting, too pleased to finally meet him, but that mistake would not happen again. He would not treat him like a normal student anymore, because he knew that there was a lot more to Harry Potter than met the eye.

His retaliation against Severus's mind probe was troubling. While his Potions Professor had obviously been wrong to attack the boy, his reaction had been extremely worrying. The brutality of outright crushing the probe was one thing, his mastery in the art was however another thing entirely. Being at Occlumens at that age was unlikely, being so skilled was extremely improbable. He was also not foolish enough to overlook the brutal mishap that had struck Umbridge the very same day Harry was supposed to have a detention. Convenient. Far too convenient.

There had also been an altercation in the Slytherin dorms centered around him, yet Severus could not get any information on the matter. They liked to keep their fights internal, even keeping it a secret from their head of house. All he could get out of it was that there had been a dispute between Harry and Draco, which had lead to Draco spending two nights in the Hospital Wing regrowing a crushed hand. Brutal and definitive.

When the Dursleys had died and the tracking magic had disappeared he was fearful that the boy was dead, yet now it only became another question mark to add to the list. When the boy arrived at Hogwarts he had noticed that the wand he used was not the one Albus expected him to use. Fawkes had only given two feathers, one resided in Voldemort's wand, he would have expected the other one to end up in Harry's hands. Make him Voldemort's equal in that matter. Yet it had never happened, which lead Albus to speculate how exactly the prophecy intended to make him an equal. If it already hadn't.

The prophecy only added to his headache, especially now that it was destroyed. The strange accident that had rocked the Department of Mysteries over three years ago had been suspicious from the start, especially when Albus learned that the prophecy orb that housed the prophecy given to him had been destroyed in it. His thoughts had strayed to Voldemort right away, leading him to believe that he had destroyed it to keep it a secret. Which was why he had informed Alastor and Kingsley about it the same day, not wanting to risk him dying without anyone informing the boy about it. But with the very strange Harry Potter arriving at Hogwarts he was forced to re-examine his former conclusions. Voldemort destroying the orb did not make practical sense, the man knew very well that Albus already knew the full contents of the orb. So by logical conclusion, someone else had to have destroyed it, perhaps to keep it out of Voldemort's hands. Unless it truly was an accident, but Albus was starting to lose faith in those occurring so conveniently.

A knocking on the door interrupted his musings and he realized he hadn't been paying much attention to the discussion going around him.

"I'll get it." Molly said, already moving towards the door.

They heard the door creak open before Molly's voice drifted into their room.

"Severus! You made it!"

"Indeed." Came the dry response. Albus stifled a smile, Severus was not too appreciative of inane statements. When the dour man walked into the room Albus was surprised at how weary he seemed, this had clearly not been a good day for him.

"Good evening Severus, we were just discussing last night's incident."

"Headmaster," he nodded, "I came from doing the very same thing."

Albus perked up.

"Indeed? Do tell."

Severus slumped into a seat, grabbing a Butterbeer while gathering himself a bit.

"The Dark Lord is furious, the men attacked were apparently about to move out on a mission that night. As far as I can tell this was already, at least, the third attack on his forces."

"The third?" Albus asked in surprise.

"Yes," he said, seeming bone tired, "the Dark Lord has attempted to keep the attacks a secret but word has already spread out among his followers. The first two were apparently against safe houses that had been used since the First Wizarding War. Safe houses that were supposed to be, well, safe. In at least one of them the survivor woke up to a dark clad figure standing over him with a knife held against neck, telling him he was going to leave him alive as an messenger. After he left, this survivor found all the other Death Eaters at the location with their throats slit, most of them in their sleep."

Severus took a deep chug from his bottle, ignoring the cringing faces around him. He turned towards him.

"Albus, the man who attacked them calls himself... Tom."

"Tom!?" He blurted out, his eyes widening. It was a certainly a common name, but this was a bit too convenient. He had long since learned to doubt all coincidences and this name was not one he could just discard.

"Yes, Tom. The Dark Lord destroyed the remains of the safe houses and killed the witnesses in an attempt to keep it under wraps, but it's too late. The rumor of someone hunting them has already spread among his followers, recruitment has ground to a halt and a few disappear every night, no doubt already having left the country by morning. Whoever this Tom is, he is certainly waging a very effective war against the Dark Lord's forces."

"Indeed." Albus had to agree, even if he heavily frowned on the methods used. Brutal but no doubt effective, most of Voldemort's followers only respected violence and power. Having that violence turned against them for once must be very unsettling.

"Does he have any idea who this Tom might be?" Kingsley asked, very interested in the information.

"He seems to have a suspicion." Snape amended, taking another swig from his Butterbeer before continuing. "He was gone for most of the day today before returning in a rage and questioning Bellatrix. He wanted to know everything about a former Death Eater called Regulus Black."

Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise, he certainly remembered one Regulus Arcturus Black. He was the brother of Sirius Black, yet unlike his brother he had been a Slytherin, later joining the Death Eaters.

"I was under the impression the man was dead." Albus said.

"Yes," Severus agreed, "so was I. But the Dark Lord has been very quiet about his death, as far as I know they never even found a body. His entire disappearance seems shrouded in mystery. The Dark Lord also questioned Bellatrix about any children the man might have had."

Children. If Regulus had a child he would only be a few years older than Harry. Being a Black also meant there might be a strong connection between either Regulus or a possible child and Harry Potter-Black. Secrets on top of secrets.

"Do you believe the man could have been a traitor to You-Know-Who?" Kingsley asked.

A valid question Albus thought, it was unlikely Voldemort would be so interested in someone loyal to him.

"It is likely," Severus agreed, "my presence here proves that the Dark Mark is far from infallible. Yet if the man is alive it also raises the question why the Dark Lord doesn't simply torture him through his mark. Unless he has found a way to counteract that."

Counteract it, not remove. The mark was a stain on the soul, it could not be removed. But could the connection perhaps be cut or hidden? How would one do that in that case, perhaps some sort of permanent ward around it? Albus eyes widened, wards. Ancient runes. The magnesium device this Tom had used showed ingenious usage of runes. He would need to double-check the records but he was almost certain Regulus received an Outstanding in his Ancient Runes NEWT. Interesting, certainly not a lead to discard.

"Did you not say the Malfoy manor had been infiltrated, someone somehow bypassing the Dark Mark ward entirely?" Kingsley asked.

"Indeed." Severus replied.

Albus nodded slowly, someone with the Dark Mark would be able to walk right through those wards.

"The brutality and effectiveness of the attacks certainly do sound like something a Black would do."

He had to agree with Kingsley on that, Andromeda Tonks nee Black was really the only exception to the rule that he knew of, and even she hid a sharp and cunning mind. Even Sirius Black had been brutal towards his enemies during his time as an Auror, the Blacks always dealt with their enemies decisively. He shot Kingsley a meaningful look and the man nodded.

"I will look into it." He said.

The soft murmur of conversation continued around him, but Albus wasn't paying much attention anymore, too caught up in this new revelation. Just who exactly was the man calling himself Tom?


	21. Needed victory

**Chapter 21: Needed victory**

Lord Voldemort paced around his makeshift throne room slowly, unconsciously walking back and forth as his mind wandered. Tonight's raids had been a success, a victory. It was disconcerting to him how something so simple actually felt like a victory for once, so many of his plans had been ruined during the past year. Their combined attack on both the Creevey and Clearwater family had been almost without flaw, they had next to no wards covering their muggle residences and his Death Eaters had made short work of the muggles after piercing through them. It was unfortunate that the Clearwater girl had escaped, but at least they had got her parents. Her escape however highlighted how much of a problem Amelia Bones was becoming. It was clever to hand out charmed objects to use as emergency signals to the muggleborn families, even when placed under wards they would signal for help, calling an entire squad of Aurors that was on standby for this very reason. Dumbledore's cursed Order naturally had their hooks in the Aurors, and where he himself showed up, so did Dumbledore.

While in the past he would gleefully fight the old man, he now felt a certain hesitation, almost a fear. Weak. He cursed, his own weakness disgusted him but he could not shake it off, there was far too much uncertainty. The Auror training had picked up immensely after Bones was elected and the confiscated funds had been funneled almost solely into the program, hiring back all the members that had once been dismissed because of budget cuts. He knew his Death Eaters had talent and ruthlessness to take on most wizards, but Aurors were trained for the sole purpose of fighting like a team. Every time they engaged his side would suffer more losses if he was not around.

Fighting against Dumbledore always kept him on edge, the man demanded his full attention at all times. He could not afford to split his focus on his men or anything else, because if he did he would be overrun. They were in a stalemate, yet he was the one who was left looking over his shoulder. Worrying. Hesitating. Because of that one cursed bastard. Tom. He could never predict when the man would strike, he was practically a shadow, striking fear into the hearts of his followers. No one could give an accurate description of him besides his black clothing, yet his brutality had already earned him the nickname of a demon. He never struck when he was around, always striking against the Death Eaters that had their own individual mission. It left the men afraid to go out on missions without him. And where he went, Dumbledore soon arrived. Merlin damn it.

He had not been forced to consider his own mortality for over a decade. Even when the cursed Potter child somehow reflected his own Killing Curse he had still lived, still survived, anchored to this reality by bonds that could not be broken so easily. Yet his mindset had soon changed when he returned to his own body, finding out that much had changed during the time he spent incorporeal. Lucius had somehow lost his diary, having no explanation or reason to why it was no longer in his possession. He had personally given it to him, instructed where to place it and how to protect it, yet it was now missing. Unforgivable. If the man wasn't such a useful asset he would have long since disposed of him for his incompetence.

It was the disappearance of the diary that had sent the first tremors of uncertainty through him, forcing him to once more split himself, once more split his very essence, his very soul. His loyal companion Nagini became the perfect vessel, the dark magic that fueled the Horcrux would let it live unnaturally long and even in its death it could be used as a container. He glanced at the dark corner of the room, the shadowed area, much like the one where his snake had liked to lounge, clenching his fists at the emptiness that met his red eyes.

Nagini had disappeared like mist in the morning sun, no trace to be found. Someone had torn through his wards, someone had bypassed wards he thought impenetrable. He would have killed the guards posted for their incompetence, yet they were missing as well. No traces, no blood, no word. They were gone, like a ghost had skirted through the manor and claimed their very existence. Ghost, or a demon. Tom. It had to be him.

He had left the Malfoy manor the very same night, casting new wards around the old Gaunt home. Intricate and different designs from what he would normally use, angered by the ease with which his earlier wards had been penetrated. Only his Inner Circle was allowed at the Gaunt home, he could not know which of his men were to be trusted. Was there a mole informing him? A traitor? Or was the person who infiltrated him one? The name Tom was also disturbing, could he have lost control of a Horcrux? He had not checked on them in over a decade, much of the magic used in creating them was lost. Only his ingenuity and creativity had allowed him to recreate the ritual, ascend past the realm of mortal men. Yet now the name plagued him, had there been a mistake?

Unnerved by the disappearance of the snake he had moved to check on the Gaunt ring, the one item he had kept of that cursed family. The trophy he had created of the moment when he had taken revenge on his father and extended the reach of his immortality. Gone. Desolate. Once more his wards had been bypassed, with ease that no wizard besides him should be able to show. Fury battled with uncertainty as he Apparated to the cave, the previously unknown feeling of apprehension bubbling in him as he entered it. It had been disturbed. Salazar Slytherin's Locket was gone. Left behind was only a crude replica with a mocking note.

_"To the Dark Lord_  
_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._  
_R.A.B."_

When had the man discovered his secret? How had he done it? Did others know? The questions plagued him, his firm belief in his immortality wavering for the first time. He recognized the initials straight away, Regulus Arcturus Black. He had been certain the man was dead, he had his own Death Eaters kill him when he suspected the man of treason. They had reported success, having incinerated the remains of his body. But with this Tom skulking around he could no longer be so certain. Had they truly killed him or merely been made to believe so? Compulsions, Obliviations, Coercing and Imperius Curses could all be used to make a man believe something that did not happen. Rage bubbled inside of him, had he known about Regulus's actions earlier he would have personally killed the man instead of letting his men do it. Now he was only left with questions as the men that had carried out the deed had perished in the war or in Azkaban. Convenient. Perhaps a bit too convenient.

When Bones has confiscated the vaults he considered it the desperate actions of a Minister needing funding, yet his attack the manor showed the action in a new light. The Auror force, the reporter, even Dumbledore showing up. She knew he was coming. The simultaneous attack on the Malfoy estate only left new questions in the air. Was Bones working with Tom or was he simply using her? What part did Dumbledore play in the game, the cunning old man always had surprises in his pocket. He did not think Dumbledore would ever approve of Tom's actions, the man was far too softhearted for that. Bones on the other hand he was not as certain about, the woman hated him with a burning passion. He personally knew to what lengths a person might go for revenge.

His moles in the Ministry had not been able to discover the Cup among the other confiscated dark items. Was it because of their incompetence or had it been isolated, already removed from the rest. Questions with no answers. It disgusted him.

The diary, the cup, the locket, the ring and even his snake were all gone. He had toyed with the idea of creating another Horcrux, but the creation of Nagini had taken far more out of him than he expected. It was another issue that troubled him. According to his calculations he should have been able to create seven before it strained him, yet when he split his soul for the snake he could feel he was at his limit. Any more and he risked ripping apart what remained of his existence. When it came to spellwork he was meticulous and exact, his rituals were without flaw. The sudden miscalculation was throwing him off. He did not do mistakes in matters concerning spells. Something had changed in his soul ever since that Merlin damned night in 1981, but he could not understand what. Had being disembodied truly caused him such instability that he could not finish his work? More questions without answer. Infuriating.

There was still one Horcrux he needed to check on, one last he needed to verify. Ravenclaw's diadem. Audaciously hidden in the very heart of the enemy stronghold. He had once celebrated his cunning and daring, yet now he cursed his youthful folly. Expecting to rule the castle in a few years he had hidden it in the secret room that appeared only when your mind willed it, yet his unexpected downfall had brought his plans crashing down. It needed to be inspected. It needed to be retrieved. There was a path into the room itself, he would know, as he was the one that had planted the broken doorway there to begin with. The work of his agent should have repaired it to the point it was almost complete, only needing a finishing touch to become operational. A path in, there for his taking.

But did he dare take it himself? A year ago there would have been no hesitation, no question, but now? Going into the castle might be one large trap. If his Horcruxes were all gone it could even be his end. Dumbledore might not approve of Tom's actions but that did not mean they might not be exchanging communication, fighting against the common foe. Entering his castle, his domain, if he expected him, was death, even if he brought his entire army with him. Or what was left of it at this point. The man was a master of Warding and Alchemy, the entire place could become a prison if he so wished. Once he might have believed that no one could ever find the diadem or even discover its purpose, but with the disappearance of the other ones it was not as assured anymore.

No, he dared not undertake the infiltration himself. Dumbledore knew his magic very well and had decades to come up with defenses around the castle. His mere presence in the castle itself might trigger the wards, he could not risk entering without destroying them. He needed a small group, some of his most loyal leading the attack. One man to retrieve the diadem, the rest to spread terror and death among the students before retreating. His men needed a victory right now, they needed the boost in morale. His men called Tom a coward because of his ambushes, yet Voldemort could hear the waver in their voice as they loudly boasted about how weak he was. They were fools, just like the people that called his own attacks cowardly. There was no such thing as cowardly attacks or honor in a war, there was only victory or defeat. Honor did not stop your wounds from bleeding and courage did not bring your dead relatives back to life.

He was not blind to his men's fear, nor was he blind to the fact that a few of his numbers would disappear every night. He would hunt them down himself once this problem was dealt with. Solving the problem would start with the infiltration of Hogwarts.

The death of students inside Magical Britain's safest place would send a shock wave of fear through the population. If Dumbledore sitting inside of his own mighty castle could not protect them, then they would not consider any place safe anymore. The knowledge that he had personally not even accompanied his men would direct their fear towards them instead of just him. Normally he would abhor the thought, but the string of victories was changing the hearts of the populace, bolstering their resistance against his men. The fear after the attack would spread and fester, gnawing at his opposition.

His mind made up, he roared out a command towards the closed door, knowing that the men standing outside would hear him.

"Bring me Rudolphus, Rabastan and Lucius. Now."

He heard a faint "Yes, my Lord!" through the wooden doors.

The Lestrange brothers would be perfect for leading the assault, their devotion to him was unwavering. He had considered summoning Bellatrix as well, but had to discard the idea, this infiltration would need a deft hand. The witch was powerful and loyal, but also unreliable, hungering for battle and lusting for blood. Voldemort knew she might just ignore the call to retreat once their work was done, instead hoping to hunt down more students to kill. Where as most wizards or witches ignored the sweet call of the Dark Arts by strengthening their mind, she reveled in the sickly sweet power, becoming more enraged and reckless the further a battle stretched. Useful for raids, but an unnecessary risk for this mission.

He had no intention of sending Lucius in, the man was no fighter, his use laid elsewhere. Watching the noble and proud man bow before his feet always brought him some slight amusement, yet his cunning political mind was not something to so easily overlook. He knew that unlike the Lestranges, Lucius did not follow him out of loyalty, but rather fear and hunger for more power. It was all the same to him as long as the man served his purpose.

This time however it was not the man himself who would need to prove his worth, but rather his son who would need to show he was deserving of bearing his mark.


	22. It's how you use it

_**A/N:**__ Hey Taure, thanks for the long review, it was very informative. However, while I agree with all the points you made, I feel you are perhaps giving the fic a bit too much credit. This story was never any attempt to recreate Shakespeare or create a pinnacle in its genre, rather it is my stepping stone to longer deeper fics. In the very first chapter I warn readers in the A/N that this would be a guilty pleasure, intended for light reading. I wasn't joking when I said that, as I knew quite well what was going to happen. I wanted to get into fic writing, but have absolutely no experience in writing whatsoever, especially not in a foreign language (which English is to me)._

_Thus I decided to create this small project, this drabble, this experiment, to let me get my first fic out of my system and get used to actually writing a story. It's also the reason why I switch POV's so much, allowing me to cherry pick scenes I want to write, getting some practice in writing different scenarios. The very purpose of this fic was to help me improve, which is why I've been pleased to see so many comments talking about how much the story itself improves the further in they get. Looking back at the first ten chapters now, I honestly cringe, but I won't edit them, as they have served exactly the purpose I wanted them to._

_In all honesty this story was never meant to become as long as it is now, I wasn't expecting to even finish it. But it has gotten so much positive feedback and such a large amount of views in such a short span of time, with people begging me to please complete it, which has changed my mind. That's why I'll complete it, even if it isn't meant to be serious story per se._

_Also, sorry about the short chapter this time, it's a Friday so didn't have that much time to dedicate to it._

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**Chapter 22: It's how you use it**

Padma Patil dove behind the battered brick wall, hearing the sharp fizzle of a spell slapping into it just as she got into cover. Her panting breaths were coming in fast now, she could hear her own blood pumping in her ears. Merlin, but he was so much better than her. Peeking over the wall she could make out his silhouette, instantly sending an angry swarm of red spells towards her exposed head. She cursed, dodging back into cover, this wasn't how she had planned to do it. The small outcropping she was hiding behind was too exposed, she needed to get moving.

"Cover me Lisa!" She shouted, getting a nod in return from the girl hiding behind a pillar on her right.

Lisa sent out Stunners, Disarming Charms and a Banishing Charm towards their attacker, giving her enough of a breather to dash behind the wall of a building. The shaded street they were fighting in was constantly lit up by spellfire, the multicolored flashes lighting up both friend and foe. Lisa's movement however caught their enemy's attention, all of them suddenly focusing on her exposed position. The pillar she was hiding behind was transfigured to paper, the fragile material being ripped away by a strong Banishing Charm before Lisa could react. Soon after a red stunner caught her in the shoulder, sending her sprawling to the pavement.

Padma bit her lip in frustration, their enemy kept splitting them up all the time. Raising walls between them or simply transfiguring the ground around them to mud or ice, making it difficult to regroup.

Their opponents combined fire instantly switched to Hermione, forcing the girl to sit on the defensive, alternating between transfigured walls and the Protego Charm to shield herself against the incoming spells. An angry red spell ripped across the ground, crushing her shield on the spot. Padma swore, their leader's power was a huge problem for them to overcome. She tried to cover for Hermione but they had assigned someone to keep her pinned, as soon as she showed even a wand she would be hammered by spells. Knowing she had to get moving before Hermione met the same fate as Lisa, she raised a mud wall a few paces to her right, using it as a makeshift cover as she tried to make the distance to the pinned girl. Her opponent transfigured the mud wall to water on the spot, before sending a stunner at her, almost catching her with her pants down. Raising her wand she felt a Protego Charm of her own form, blocking the spell in its tracks.

Wait, had that been nonverbal? She was pretty sure it had, she was too out of breath to even verbalize the spell, let alone properly enunciate it. Harry hadn't been kidding when he said fighting was the best way to get a grasp of combat magic. Fighting under stress and with adrenaline coursing through her body, she found her magic responding much quicker, like it was an instinctive thing. While it had been clumsy at first, she could now notice a clear improvement in both her response time and the way her magic behaved. Emboldened by the sudden success she quickly launched her own counter-attack, flooding her opponents cover with water before quickly freezing it on the spot. The unconventional attack caught her foe by surprise and Padma pointed her wand at her opponent with a small victorious grin. Gotcha!

She heard a shouted warning but it was too late, she could feel a red spell smash into her stomach, throwing her to the rough ground. Shit. Padma realized her mistake as the world grew dim around her eyes, she had overextended, left her cover and focused solely on one target, leaving her exposed to the others. Darkness engulfed her.

"Ennervate."

Padma gasped at the sudden surge of energy coursing through her body, blinking to get her vision back in focus. She was looking up into the concerned face of Neville.

"You all right Padma? I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

She grunted as she took his offered hand, being pulled to her feet.

"Yeah, the only thing that's bruised is my ego." She gave him a small smile, getting a relieved one in return. Susan had Ennervated Lisa to her right, her friend seemed just as groggy from the Stunner as she was. Despite her rough tumble there were no injuries, the Cushioning Charm on the ground saw to that. Padma wasn't lying about her ego though, it was getting pretty annoying to see just how good Neville was becoming, the team he was on seemed to be winning the majority of the fights these days. Still, she couldn't deny the effectiveness of the training, not to mention how much fun it was becoming. A competitive streak she thought only existed in academics was emerging during these mock fights, driving her to improve much faster.

Glancing at Hermione's mutinous face she had to stifle a chuckle, Padma knew she wasn't the only one annoyed at losing these things. The hyper-competitive muggleborn was probably the most frustrated out of them all, being so used to always being at the top of her classes, the mere thought that her actual fighting capability was so low seemed to be driving the girl around the bend. Harry's comments about how different a fight was from a classroom setting had hit the nail right on the head, they weren't even comparable. But at the same time the exercises were also improving her casting faster than anything she had done in the school before.

"Blergh, I want a shower." Hannah commented from the side, getting murmurs of agreement. Padma was just grateful they didn't have to do this stuff in their school robes, who knew fighting was going to be this tiring. Or dirty for that matter, she thought with a sniff, looking down on her soiled training clothes.

The candles lining the storage room suddenly flared to life, dispelling the darkness that had covered their makeshift battle ground. Padma squinted, the sudden light felt uncomfortable after having adapted to the dark. Huh, thinking about that made her realize how useful a Lumos Charm might have been in the fight earlier, robbing the opposing team of their night vision. It was startling to perceive how many different uses she was suddenly finding to what she once thought were simple spells. Harry always told them it wasn't the spell that mattered, but rather how you used it. The more they trained the more she came to understand what he really meant.

"Well done everyone, that was a good fight." They turned towards Harry's voice, watching him stride down the street towards them. He turned to Neville.

"Good job Neville's team and especially Neville himself. Splitting up the enemy and targeting the isolated people was a great tactic, one that is actually used by Aurors themselves."

Neville beamed at the praise, but she could still see a faint blush on his cheeks. That made her frown a bit, it was weird to see how clearly unused he was to receiving actual praise for his efforts. Despite his magical and admittedly, physical growth, he still seemed rather insecure outside of battles. Harry turned towards her, making her twitch slightly, even if she already knew what he was going to say.

"As for Padma's team, I won't be telling you what you did wrong, I'm pretty sure you can figure that out. Your individual efforts were good, yet as you can probably tell yourselves, this battle turned out to be a team fighting a group of individuals who simply happened to have a truce between them."

Padma nodded, he never seemed interested in harping on about mistakes. He would rather let them figure it out themselves, saying it helped them develop a better instinct for fighting. He wasn't wrong, the first few fights had been total brawls, with no teamwork or cohesion. But tactics were soon emerging from one side or another, forcing the opponent to adapt. It didn't hurt that it was turning out to be a lot of fun as well. Harry theatrically sniffed the air before grinning.

"Well, you all smell goddamn awful so I reckon we call it a day here, go hit the showers."

"That's easy for you to say, sitting on your arse just enjoying the show." Tracey huffed, getting a loud shout of agreement from Hannah.

Padma found the chemistry developing in the group to be interesting. House walls seemed to collapsing whenever they entered this room, it was hard to hold some sort of nonsensical grudge against a teammate that had saved your skin a couple of times in a mock battle. Yet while they were all getting along better, it was also clear that Harry had become the absolute undisputed leader of the group, something which was leaking out outside of the meetings, influencing their daily lives. A small part of her couldn't help wondering if this wasn't planned from his part. There was a significant amount of future political power in this small group and by each day that went by they were increasingly looking up to him for guidance.

"Hey Luna, how have you been? Anything interesting been happening?" Harry's voice caught her attention, making her once more wonder why he had such an interest in the blonde girl. It wasn't the first time he would dismiss them all, only to stay back and chat with her. She decided to linger for a bit, making a show of slowly gathering her things while paying attention to the conversation.

"Very well, thank you Harry. Although that might be because it's the mating season of the Blubbering Horncrackers." She replied.

"Oh, it is?" Padma was surprised at how interested he sounded in her nonsense.

"Yes," She agreed, nodding enthusiastically, "I'm pretty sure about it. Some boys in the library were clearly trying to catch sight of one, hiding between the book shelves. I don't think they know how shy they are, they won't show themselves just to anyone."

Harry nodded, "Of course, you would know. Which boys are we talking about?"

"Oh, it was Zacharias and Theodore."

"Smith and Nott huh?" Harry mumbled. Wait, wasn't Zacharias Smith that pureblood from Hufflepuff? Why would he be hanging out with someone like Nott who was from a renowned dark family?

"That is pretty fascinating Luna, are there any other people chasing creatures I should know about?"

"Well..." She seemed to consider it before brightening up, "Draco is probably chasing Humming Sparkcatchers, he seemed really annoyed to see me. Didn't want me to chase them away I reckon."

"Really now? Where would one find these Sparkcatchers?" Harry asked.

Luna laughed. "Oh please, they are very easy to spot, they fly around the sky during the night. I saw him trying to sneak up to the seventh floor two nights ago, no doubt heading to the Astronomy Tower for a closer look!"

Harry's eyes narrowed a bit but Padma didn't think Luna noticed it. Then again, this conversation was showing the girl in a new light.

"This happened during the night? What did Malfoy say to you?"

"Oh he looked really annoyed, telling me to get lost. I didn't really understand that, I have been in the castle for so long that getting lost would probably be really hard. Do you think he wanted me to leave the castle to get lost?" Luna asked, her wide eyes blinking.

"Seventh floor during the night... Finally." Harry mumbled. "And no Luna, I think it was just an expression he used because he was annoyed. Thank you for the little talk, this has been very informative."

"No problem Harry!" She chirped, before skipping away. Padma quickly followed her out of the room, her own mind whirring. Informative. Information gathering. Luna was such a quirky girl that people had learned to ignore her very presence, just dismissing her as another strange thing about the bustling castle. The girl always seemed to be out and about, exploring every nook and cranny of the school. She would even walk about in the middle of the night, finding the spooky castle fascinating while conversing with the ghosts and paintings. That's why Harry was so interested in talking to her, people didn't pay attention to her at all. She was like a living painting, eavesdropping on conversations without the people she overheard really caring. Padma glanced at the skipping girl next to her, wondering if she understood why Harry wanted to talk with her. Her first instinct was to say no, but she knew the girl was smart, very smart in fact. They might even have an agreement between them.

Padma knew Luna looked up to Harry greatly, the bullied girl had been largely left alone ever since she started associating with him. She could remember the shell-shocked look on Cho's face when Harry had escorted Luna to the Ravenclaw table one day. At the time she thought he was just being nice, but she was now forced to reconsider it. Had he known about the bullying and been looking to send a message, gaining Luna as an ally in the process?

_It's not the spell that matters, but how you use it._ She wondered if his fighting philosophy didn't extend to people as well.


	23. His realm, His domain

_**A/N: **__Long week so didn't have time to publish a chapter, will try to wrap up this story this week tho._

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**Chapter 23: His realm, his domain**

Rabastan Lestrange stared distrustfully at the intricate wooden cabinet standing in front of him, it honestly didn't look like much.

"So this is it?" His brother, Rodolphus Lestrange asked, seeming to share his thoughts.

Rabastan grunted in agreement before glancing at the other Death Eaters around them. There were ten in total, he and his brother had been selected to lead this mission, both with their own objective. Rodolphus was ordered to retrieve the Dark Lord's item, he on the other hand was to lead an ambush on the students. The back room of Borgin and Burkes, a seedy little shop in Knockturn Alley, was their staging point. Rabastan glanced at his watch, dinner would be starting at Hogwarts now, it was time for them to get moving. The plan was to infiltrate the castle while the students were eating, before ambushing the Gryffindors heading back to their tower.

He spat in disgust on the floor, the plan had too many potential flaws for his liking, yet it was the probably the best one they were going to get. It was a back door into the castle, bypassing the wards and hopefully detection. Bartemius Crouch Jr had started the work on fixing the link and the Malfoy child had reported it complete just yesterday. That was one of the flaws he disliked, relying on a Malfoy for anything. He trusted the child just as much as he trusted Lucius, which was not at all. Both were weak cowards, hiding behind name and money while cowering at their Lord's feet.

The other flaw was the presence of Dumbledore. Rabastan might hate the old man, but he was not foolish enough to underestimate him. If they were caught fighting him inside the castle they would all be done for. Hogwarts was Dumbledore's domain and even the thickest Death Eater knew this. He had toyed with the idea of assaulting the castle while he was attending an ICW or Wizengamot meeting, but had to discard it. He was the Headmaster of the place, with total control of the wards. It didn't matter if he was in France or the Great Hall when the wards triggered, he no doubt had a Portkey or simply his Phoenix to flash him to the location of battle in minutes. No, their best bet was to strike fast and hard before swiftly retreating back to their entry point.

The entry point which he was now staring at, the Vanishing Cabinet that was supposedly linked to the one inside the castle. He pointed at the man next to him.

"You're first, get a move on."

Rabastan saw the way the man stiffened, not that he could blame him. But there was no way he was going to be the first man to go through something Malfoy had a hand in. Especially not when they were dealing with Vanishing Cabinets. He did not fully understand how they worked, but did know that it was some form of forced Apparition powered by runic magic. Which was why they were also incredibly dangerous if one of the cabinets was not working as intended. If the cabinet at Hogwarts was still broken it would power the Apparition, but without a destination. His body would have nowhere to go, yet his magic and soul would be sent on the journey regardless. No one knew exactly where such people ended up, but he had heard it referred to as a limbo. All that would remain of the unfortunate man was his soulless body left behind.

The man hesitated and if he hadn't been wearing the mask, Rabastan was certain he would be seeing a mutinous expression. He didn't care, if he didn't follow orders his life would end here. The Death Eater seemed to come to the same conclusion and took a deep breath, steeling himself before he marched into the cabinet with determined steps. His hand shook slightly as he closed the door behind him and all of them waited with baited breath. A soft whooshing sound was heard and the door rattled slightly before going quiet, signaling that it had activated. Rabastan quickly yanked open the door, preparing to see a corpse fall out, but was pleasantly surprised to see the empty space that greeted him. He grinned underneath his mask, well that was half of his worries solved from the start.

Not wasting any more time he followed suit, feeling the squeezing sensation of Apparition as the cabinet ported him from one cabinet to the other. He opened the door and felt his eyes widen in surprise. The storage room they were arriving in was absolutely humongous. The Dark Lord had told them it would be very large, but he hadn't expected a structure this big to be hidden inside of Hogwarts. Rows upon rows of various objects and materials littered the shelves that seemed to stretch as far as his eyes could see. Even the floor was littered with piles of garbage and school related materials like chairs and tables. He snapped out of his surprise, this was not the time to act like a first year seeing the Hogwarts Express.

He moved up next to the man that had arrived first, taking up a defensive position around the cabinet.

"Wasn't that kid supposed to be waiting for us here?" The man grunted, probably still a bit salty over being volunteered to test their transportation.

Rabastan frowned, scanning the area. No sign of Draco Malfoy. Shit. This was what you got when you relied on a Malfoy for anything, he should have been fucking expecting this. Unreliable pricks.

"Fucking Malfoy's." He grunted to the man, who seemed to agree.

The soft rattling of the cabinet echoed quietly in the cathedral-esque room, emitting the rest of his squad one by one. His brother came out last, no doubt to ensure no men got second thoughts after they were gone.

"Where's the runt?" He asked.

Rabastan snorted. "Where do you think?"

Rodolphus cursed before spitting on the floor.

"Fucking Malfoy's."

Rabastan nodded in full agreement before starting to move in the direction their Lord had instructed.

"Doesn't matter, we'll still advance as planned. Lets go get your target first."

Rodolphus grunted, ordering the men to form a loose formation around them as they moved towards their first objective. The intense silence of the room was somewhat unnerving, there wasn't even the soft sound of wind that usually accompanied the drafty castle. Only the soft rustle of their robes and the clicking sound of their heels on the rough stone floor was heard. Rabastan didn't feel like talking either, there was an oppressing feel in the air. He tried to shake it off, a bit late to be getting pre-mission jitters.

Following their given directions they soon arrived at the location their Lord had described. A small pedestal that was carrying a chipped old marble bust, the years having shaved off any resemblance of whoever it was meant to depict. But it wasn't the bust that caught their eyes, but rather the tiara that was placed on top of its head. Ravenclaw's diadem. Rabastan wasn't certain why exactly their Lord wanted the item so desperately, but considering the reputation it had, it was no doubt powerful. Rodolphus moved up to grab it, it was after all his sole objective this mission. Rabastan sneered, he wouldn't have minded that assignment instead of the one he was stuck with. Lucky bastard.

He stopped cursing Rodolphus's luck the second his hand touched the intricate relic. The moment the diadem was disturbed a massive surge of magic rushed through the air as runes upon runes lit up the floor around him. Formed in countless intersecting circles they instantly flared to life, encasing him in a shield of magic on the spot, before spikes of steel and marble ripped out of the ground, tearing through his body and limbs. Before he could even scream in pain, the bubble of magic was flooded with searing fire, burning anything left in it to ashes. It was over in a heartbeat. With a soft whoosh the magic dispelled, leaving nothing but charred ground and a small swirling pile of ashes.

Rabastan jerked his eyes away in surprise, his experience kicking in as he started shouting out orders.

"Get in cover idiots, someone knew we were coming!"

The men thankfully quickly obeyed, allowing him to draw a deep breath, trying to deal with the shock. His brother was dead. There was no arguing that simple fact. That trap had activated in the blink of an eye, nothing could have evaded it in time. The power and complexity used was also ridiculous, a simple combusting rune scheme would have killed a man just as surely, where as the trap they had just triggered seemed designed to kill a Merlin damned Nundu on the spot. Hell, he doubted even their Lord could have-

His train of thought halted abruptly. It was an object their Lord wanted. One he had adamantly demanded. The trap had probably been designed for him, not them. Shit, what kind of madman was actually dumb enough to try and ambush the Dark Lord? Was he still here? He held his breath, straining his ears, but could only make out the soft breaths of his men and the occasional rustle of their robes as they moved.

A sudden burst of red from their right caught their attention, only to watch in horror as a spell slammed into one of their own, caving in his ribcage on the spot and sending him sprawling to the floor, clearly dead on the spot. Rabastan sent his own spells in the general direction of where it had come from but could only curse as the spells sailed through the air before smashing into the rubble behind it. There was someone with them and he was invisible. Shit. He tried to listen for his footsteps but only silence greeted him. Of course, the man had silenced his feet. He barked out the order for his men to do the same. One of them went through the motions of a Disillusionment Charm but Rabastan stopped him.

"Wait! No!" He barked, his battle senses tingling.

Why would their assailant attack them from the open like that, this place offered plenty of cover? He wanted them to know he was invisible, he realized. He wanted them to copy him. Shit. If he was alone, then having all of them Disillusion themselves would work to his advantage, making them wary of hitting friend or foe while he could attack anything that moved. He might even have a way of tracking them. He probably did, he amended, after all, that's what he himself would do. He relayed the command to the men who shakily nodded in agreement. Rabastan just needed to catch the man once with the wide area Homenum Revelio Charm to unmask their opponent, but that was easier said than done. The magic needed to actually touch the target to reveal him, which was turning out to be very difficult with all the cover being offered in the cluttered room. This was turning out to be a game of cat and mouse and he wasn't certain which animal he represented.

"Get closer together so you can cover each others blind spots." He hissed, watching them move closer together while keeping an eye out in every direction. Something about one of the men caught his eye, making him frown faintly in confusion. His eyes widened when the man he was looking at suddenly raised his wand, pointing at the back of the head of his comrade. His shouted warning came too late as the Severing Charm ripped his head off, the assailant already dodging behind a pile of rubble as the severed head bounced across the floor. Fuck! He understood now why the man had stood out, his form had rippled slightly. A Glamour Charm, he had slipped in between their lines masquerading as one of them. He sprinted to where the man had died but only empty air greeted him. He tried another detection charm but the fake was long gone.

Whoever their opponent was, he was good. He spat on the floor in agitation. Too good for his taste.

"Get even closer, kill anything that moves." He doubted the last addition had been needed, the men were on edge as it was. Even a mouse would be destroyed if it showed itself right now. He clutched his wand, scanning the area around them, trying to spot the slightest movement, the slightest disturbance of the dust around them. Nothing. Only silence. The seconds ticked by slowly but the only thing he heard was his own soft breathing.

"What the hell?" The sudden exclamation behind them made the men turn around as one, gasping in surprise when they came face to face to the very recognizable faces of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones. His ingrained reflexes snapped away a Reductor Curse before he could even think, his squad reacting the very same way.

"NO!" Rabastan roared, but it was too late as the hail of spells crashed into the two people. He had realized his mistake a fraction too late and could only swear in frustration as the barrage ripped into them, their Glamour Charms faltering under the magic as the two Death Eaters underneath were torn to pieces. Their exclamation of surprise had been because of the charm placed on them. Shit, shit, shit! The men looked shaken as they stared at the remains of their team mates, torn to shreds by their own hands. He couldn't blame them, the prick they were fighting was using a Merlin damned frustrating tactic. He could have killed them himself, but chose to let them die to their own curses instead.

An eerie soft chuckle echoed in room, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Rabastan realized what it was, a combination of Projection and Sonorus Charms, like the ones they used to commentate Quidditch. It made it impossible to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. The laughter ended as a soft ominous voice echoed around them.

"It's unfortunate that you were the ones to enter here... I had been hoping for your master. Of course, I am not surprised that he would be afraid to enter here... who wouldn't."

Rabastan scoffed at the thought of their Lord being afraid of anything, but he realized the effect the words were having on the four men that remained beside him. They were nervously looking everywhere, hands fidgeting as they jumped at even the shadows cast by the candlelight. Psychological warfare. The man was using the very thing The Dark Lord was known for, intimidation and fear. One of the men seemed to snap, suddenly breaking into a run towards the cabinet they had come from.

"Don't!" Rabastan hissed, this was clearly what the man wanted. Split up they would be far more vulnerable.

The Death Eater dove into the cabinet, closing the door behind him. The familiar rattle shook the wooden frame for a second and Rabastan cursed the coward for running away. He swallowed his curse when the cabinet suddenly opened, a lifeless corpse with falling out of it. His mask slid off as he tumbled to the floor, revealing wide open lifeless eyes. Soulless. He swallowed nervously as the unnerving chuckle echoed in the room again.

"Did you really think you would be allow to run from here? Run from my domain, my realm? It seems my partner has already dealt with your little exit, knowing him I'd be surprised if more than a scorch mark remained of Borgin and Burkes."

Rabastan swore as he punched the shelf in front of him in frustration, the man knew fucking everything. They were trapped now, caught in here. He could feel the Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards around them, there was no way out. At the end of the aisle they were in he could see a door, no doubt leading to the rest of the castle, but he wasn't dumb enough to take it. There was little doubt it would be as booby-trapped as the rest of this cursed place. He could practically smell the fear of the men around him. They were used to being the ones hunting, the ones chasing their targets as they fled in fear, but now they didn't even have an opponent to fight, merely a faceless shadow that killed them off one by one.

"Come here!" He hissed to his men, they needed to stay together now or they were screwed. He needed to get this guy out of hiding, fighting from the shadows was clearly to his advantage. The longer they stayed here the more convinced he became that their opponent was tracking them somehow. When the men gathered around him, looking nervously in every direction, he quickly conjured a large pile of gravel. With careful Banishing Charms he spread the small stones all over the floor, covering the surrounding area. The Silencing Charm their foe used might hide his steps, but anything loose that he kicked over would make a sound when it escaped the area of influence of the spell. He made a shushing motion to his men, getting a nod from them as the attentively listened.

The seconds ticked by in silence, slowly turning to minutes. Their enemy had no doubt hoped they would scatter like headless chickens, that would have made his work much easier for him, but this was far from the first battle Rabastan had fought. He understood the importance of patience and discipline.

_'Crunch.'_

Rabastan snapped his head to the sound, his wand following a split second later as he cast a wide area Homenum Revelio in the general direction of where it had come from. A wide grin split his face as an invisibility cloak was ripped from around a person and thrown into a pile of chairs behind it. His grin faltered as he laid eyes on the demon, the ghost they had been fighting. It looked like a damned teenager, wearing Slytherin robes. His eyes were drawn to the lightning shaped scar on his forehead before settling on the cold green eyes that met his. Harry fucking Potter. A boy had been slaughtering them. His moment of hesitation almost cost them as Potter instantly responded, his Exploding Curse smashing into their position, throwing them around.

Rabastan quickly shook his head to clear it, it didn't matter what his age was, what mattered was that he needed to die.

"Keep pressuring him!" He roared, they couldn't allow him to slip in among shelves and piles of garbage again, letting him disappear from sight now that they finally caught him. His men eagerly followed his order, glad to finally have something they could actually fight against. There was only four of them left in total, but they were only facing a child, this should not take long.

But the actual fight turned out to be far different than he expected, Potter was very, very fast. His style of fighting reminded him of his own Lord, but that was not the thing catching him off guard. Any spell sent his way would be instantly blocked by a conjured object, yet he never saw Potter make the motions or even point his wand in the direction of the incoming spell. His green eyes would glance at the incoming object and the next second a brick wall or a marble pillar would appear, stopping the spell in its tracks. It was impossible, not even Dumbledore had such a command over transfiguration. But his eyes were not lying, the very room seemed to shift to protect to the boy.

Potter sent a very strong Severing Charm against the man on their left, who instantly responded by transfiguring a chair next to him into a makeshift wall. But a mere split second before the wall would absorb the charm it suddenly disappeared, vanishing into thin air, letting the charm sail through and cleanly cut the man in two.

"What the fuck?" The man on his right uttered. Rabastan agreed with his sentiment, how the hell was that even possible?! There had been no visible Vanishing Charm at all and Potter hadn't even made the wand motions for one. He sped up his own casting, wanting to end this quickly, but his destructive dark magic was stopped in its tracks constantly, walls appearing everywhere around them. Shelves would unnaturally shift from their locations to suddenly block them off, chairs would appear between them, hindering their movement. They were being split up and divided, the very environment seemed to respond to Potter's every wish. He ducked behind a shelf cursing to himself. How!? How was this possible? He desperately wished he could understand what was going on.

The second the thought fully formed, a tome suddenly appeared out of thin air, dropping in front of him. He frowned in confusion, looking at the thick old worn book. Realization hit him like a hammer as he read the title.

_'A fool's guide to operating the Room of Requirement'_

Requirement? What? It had appeared just when he needed it. Could it be? He tried wishing for a brick to appear on his left, a small grin growing on his face when room responded to his wishes. He understood now, it wasn't Potter doing it, it was the room obeying him.

"It's not him!" He roared, "it's the room responding to his wishes! Use it against him!"

The two men he had left looked at him in surprise, a distraction they couldn't afford. The man on his right abruptly had the ground underneath his feet turn to quicksand as he tried to dodge out of the way of a Crushing Hex, making him suddenly sink down to his knees in the sticky substance. A split second later the hex caved his forehead in, his limp body sinking into the sticky liquid.

Potter grinned coldly at him from across the aisle.

"So you finally figured it out. It matters little, you are like children learning to swim. I have spent the past year practicing in this room on a daily basis, I was not lying when I called it my domain."

Rabastan snarled at his insolence, sending a spellchain at his face, only for a series of walls to appear and block them all. He wished for a Killing Curse to materialize in front of Potter's face, exterminating the vermin on the spot, but nothing happened. Shit, of course. This place had limitations, rules and laws like every other place. He needed to understand it to be able to use it, otherwise Potter would run them over. But he needed time, time they didn't have.

The last man he had left was Rowley, a fairly experienced fighter, he would have to count on him delaying Potter for a second while he tried to understand it. He hoped for a bowl of onion soup to appear on the ground, getting the same lack of result as he got with the Killing Curse. So the room obeyed Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, not even it could conjure food. Any further experimenting was cut off when a steel spike suddenly shot out of the floor, piercing Rowley through his gut. Merlin damn it, Potter hadn't even used a spell!

Potter was on him the second Rowley collapsed, his wand a blur of motion as he bombarded him with spells. Rabastan cursed, no student should have such an intimate knowledge of battle magic. His own style had always been more stationary, which in this place was turning out to be a massive weakness. For the first time in his life he couldn't rely on his conjured shields or walls, Potter was making them disappear with a mere thought aimed at him. He tried to replicate the feat but inexperience in using the room showed, he was far slower and didn't seem able to overpower Potter's will. Any wall Potter summoned stayed firm even when he focused his mind on making it vanish. His simple grasp of how the room worked was no match for the months of practice the boy had in this cursed place.

Potter's eyes were cold and narrow as they locked to his, nothing like the charming smiling young man he had seen in the Daily Prophet. He was facing a killer now, he knew there would be no mercy in this fight. This child was doing everything in his power to kill him. He felt a tingling in his eyes, shocked at the signs of a Legilimency probe poking at his mind. He forced up his weak Occlumency, the sole reason he had ever survived in Azkaban with his sanity intact. He mentally cursed at his knowledge of the mind arts, the boy was far better than he had any right to be at that age.

The boy suddenly increased the tempo, the room responding even faster. The floor around him switched constantly, from boiling water to mud to slick wooden floors covered with oil, forcing him to constantly glance at his feet, willing the ground to return to stone. It was mentally exhausting and his casting was suffering from it, getting sloppier by the minute. Ice suddenly appeared around his feet and he quickly dispelled it, only to feel a shadow looming over him. Looking up he saw a massive rock materialize high in the air, intent on crushing his head. He moved to dodge, but the ground around him suddenly rose to his knees, tripping him on the spot. A moment later the rock fell down, shattering his feet that had been trapped in the hole. He roared in agony as everything below his knees was smashed into pulp, bones splintering under the tremendous weight of the rock. In his haze of pain he briefly felt his wand being ripped from his hand, flying over to the Slytherin boy who deftly caught it.

He bit down on his scream of agony, trying to will the massive block of rock to disappear. But the block would only briefly flicker, he could not overcome the boy's will, could not overcome his need to have the rock stay where it was. Realizing it was pointless he turned his gaze towards the cold green eyes bearing down on him, willing him to disappear to the deepest pits of hell. A small cold smirk spread on Potter's lips before he raised his wand towards his head. Rabastan swore but refused to turn away, refused to close his eyes in front of his impending doom.

"Legilimens"

No! He had expected death, not this! He tried to clear his mind but the pain radiating from his shattered legs scrambled his mind, leaving it jumbled and open, easy pickings for the incredibly powerful probe that ripped through his consciousness, rifling through his every hidden thought. He wanted to fight it, wanted to expel the intruder, but in his state he was like an open book, only able to sit there in agony as all his deepest secrets were pulled into the open. After what felt like an eternity, but probably was no longer than a few minutes the boy finally retreated out of his mind, a small grin on his face.

"Interesting."

Rabastan snarled, this little prick deserved everything that was coming to him. "Go fuck yourself Pott-"

"Diffindo."

The last thing that went through Rabastan's mind was the confusion of looking at his own headless body from a strange angle, before the darkness swiftly claimed him.


	24. Endgame

**A/N: **_Damn, been way too busy this week. Will try to wrap this story up while I still have my plans fresh in my mind. _

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**Chapter 24: Endgame**

Severus Snape glanced at the clock, exhaling softly as the seconds ticked by. Dinner would be starting now, it was time to move. The risk of being caught was far smaller with no students milling the hallways. With a flick of his wand he levitated the prone body, throwing the invisibility cloak over it and hiding it from view. He walked out of his office, making sure no one was nearby before guiding the body down the corridor. He strode calmly with purpose, his gestures showing no sign of doing anything suspicious. It wouldn't do to tip any of the paintings off, word couldn't get back to Dumbledore on this. The body bumped into the wall as he moved down the long winding hallways, but that only brought the tiniest of smirks to his lips. This was madness, foolish and stupid, yet it had to be done. He had no choice.

Guiding the body he made it to the secret passage leading to Hogsmeade, needing to use it to clear the wards. This was dangerous enough without him walking out the main doors, practically begging to get caught. He saw a blond boy waiting for him at the hidden entrance, stopping his nervous pacing as he laid eyes on him. Draco Malfoy.

The boy had come to him in a panic this morning, stuttering and blabbering on about how he was going to die. Severus had been confused, almost tempted to slap him just to make him talk some sense. A chill had gone down his spine when he heard the full story, apparently there was supposed to be an attack on the castle yesterday. An attack from within the walls themselves. One which he had not been informed about. It was worrying on several levels, did the Dark Lord no longer trust him enough to aid in this matter? That this little child would be informed but he would not? The Dark Lord was clearly growing more paranoid by each day that went by, this Tom figure was clearly not helping his sanity. But losing faith in him was dangerous, if the man became convinced that he was not to be trusted, then his next meeting with him would turn out both painful and deadly.

The fact that there had been no attack had been even more disturbing though. He had felt his Dark Mark burning all morning, the Dark Lord wanting answers for what had happened. Well, he swallowed, he would be visiting him soon enough. The Daily Prophet had reported on the destruction of Borgin and Burkes, which according to Draco would have been where the attack was coming from. That only left one probable answer, there was only person he knew ruthless enough to simply kill them all and flatten the entire store. Tom. He had little doubt the Dark Lord had reached the same conclusion. A small spasm went through his hands at that thought, the man would be in a foul mood.

It was Draco's story that had been the most perplexing though. He had shakily explained how he had forgotten about the attack completely, simply heading to his dorm to get some sleep. The boy had stuttered and babbled over how he couldn't believe how it could have happened, that there was no way he would simply forget something so important.

Well, Severus did agree with him on that. The boy was certainly a spoiled absentminded child, but this order had come from both the Dark Lord and his father, there was absolutely no way he would forget it about so conveniently. He was far too afraid of their fury to not spend every waking moment thinking about it. No, the only reason for Draco to so ignore his mission would have because of magical interference. Probably a strong Confundus Charm, which considering how nervous the boy had been, had probably eased his mind, taking the stress of his back. He most likely hadn't even realized it was used on him, or even considered fighting it, as it made him feel better. Foolish. But then again, he was a child, it was to be expected.

Severus glanced at the invisible bundle he was levitating. He was fairly certain he knew who had cast that Confundus Charm by now.

"Professor Snape!" The boy exclaimed, seeming relieved.

"Keep your voice down! Unless you wish to fail another mission?" He hissed back.

Draco flushed slightly in embarrassment.

"Sorry. Did it... did it work?"

"Naturally."

A savage grin lit up on Draco's face when he realized what he was levitating with his wand. Before Severus could stop him, he reached out blindly, finding the invisibility cloak and ripping it off. Exposing the petrified body of an unresponsive Harry Potter.

"Fool boy, we don't have time for this!" He snapped at him.

"Sorry," Draco said unrepentantly, "I just wanted to see him. I knew his arrogance would backfire on him!"

Severus barely resisted rolling his eyes as he threw the cloak back on the body, Draco was possibly the last person in the castle to lecture about arrogance. The pot calling the kettle black. But he could also see the relief in the boy's eyes. The boy had been as close to a walking corpse as you can be if Severus hadn't intervened. The Dark Lord would not have accepted this failure without taking out a pound of flesh in payment, and the very first person to blame would have no doubt been the boy. Which was why he went through with this harebrained plan, he had promised Narcissa he would look out for her child. Leaving him to be tortured at the Dark Lord's mercy the very next weekend was certainly failing in keeping that promise.

"Signal our Lord, he will have received my letter and will be expecting both me and Potter."

Draco nodded eagerly, exposing his arm before pressing his wand into the Dark Mark resting on it. Severus would have preferred to inform him himself, but using his own mark within the castle walls was too sketchy. Dumbledore might trust him, but he wouldn't put it past the man to have slipped something into his little tattoo during the countless times he had investigated it. The Headmaster was trusting yes, but he was never dumb. Only a fool would confuse the two.

Draco hissed through clenched teeth, it was obvious their Lord had sent his response. Knowing him he was probably very pleased to hear from them.

"It's done." Draco said.

Severus nodded, opening the hidden doorway that lead under the mighty Hogwarts wards.

"Go eat dinner with the rest of the students, make sure you are seen."

The boy nodded happily, almost skipping away to obey. Severus frowned, the boy had played minimal part in this thing yet was behaving like he had just personally defeated The-Boy-Who-Lived. He snorted at the ridiculous moniker before walking down the dark tunnel, hearing the soft rumble behind him as the hidden door slid back into place.

Needing to signal the Dark Lord before arriving at his new headquarters was just another sign of how severely Tom had affected their operations. His Lord took no more chances now, the only way one was allowed to enter into the Gaunt Manor now was by signalling him through the mark, making him drop the wards for that person specifically. Or in this case, for him and his cargo. Only his inner circle even knew the location of the place, let alone visited it. Well, he thought, glancing at the bundle he was levitating, that rule was about to have an exception today.

He felt the compressing feeling of the wards disappear as he passed underneath the ward line, exhaling softly as he reached for his personal Portkey. It baffled him how such a weakness could be allowed to linger, if he was the Headmaster then he would block off every single one of these passages. Grabbing it he hesitated, looking at the invisible boy. There would be no turning back after this, Dumbledore would know he was not as loyal to him as he thought. In all honesty he did not want to do this, but there was no choice, his bonds forced him. Urged him. Even his simple hesitance now sent an uncomfortable tingle through his body.

"Forgive me for this folly Lily." He muttered, pressing the object against the limp boy, making sure they were both caught in it. The world went spinning in a kaleidoscope of color as the Portkey pulled him through space, twisting and turning for what felt like an eternity, but was merely a few seconds. He landed with practiced grace on the lawn of the Gaunt Manor, the invisible boy crumpling to the ground. Well, no need for stealth anymore. He stuffed the boy's invisibility cloak into his robes, briefly thinking about what James Potter's face would look like if he found out their family cloak was in his pocket. He discarded the thought, there were more important matters at hand now than engaging in foolish daydreams.

With a flick of his wand the boy was once more levitated, and Severus marched towards the small manor. It was only three stories and slightly larger than a big house, but he was still surprised it had been restored. Perhaps the Dark Lord had once planned to use it to promote his Slytherin inheritance? The Gaunt family had always been linked to the Slytherins. He didn't know and didn't care either, it was a suitable location. He shuddered as it felt like a thick oily substance was poured all over his skin, creeping and crawling over his body. The wards on this place were monstrous, he doubted there was anyone alive who could penetrate this place unless the Dark Lord allowed it. Yet he knew they hadn't been designed to keep just anyone out, rather they were tailor-made to repel one person alone. They were the solid proof that this Tom person had unnerved their Lord, even if he attempted to hide it. No one spoke it out loud, fearing his reaction, but everyone thought it just the same.

He entered the grand house, walking straight towards the main dining room where he expected his master to wait. The doors were open as he arrived, admitting him to the large oval room, old Slytherin relics decorating the walls. Dark greens and silver dominated the room, with decorated snakes seemingly crawling on the walls, making for an intimidating view. Yet it was the man sitting in the imposing chair that drew his eyes. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. Voldemort. Severus cleared his mind as he walked up to him, glancing at both Barty Crouch Junior and Bellatrix Lestrange who were staring at the boy with hungry fanatic eyes. The entire inner circle, or what was left of it, was here today. The only exception being Lucius who was no doubt working to salvage whatever could be saved at the Ministry. Not surprising that they would be present for this occasion.

He released the boy from the spells placed on him, letting him limply drop to the floor. He then knelt on one knee in front of the chair, almost throne, that Voldemort had created for himself.

"My Lord." He greeted.

"Rise Severus. You have gone beyond what has been expected of you. Your work and loyalty will be highly rewarded."

A small smirk spread on his lips as he stood up, watching the furious jealous look that had spread on Bellatrix's face. She knew this would propel him to a place on their masters side. Barely suppressed violence glittered in her cold eyes, but she was too fanatically devoted to their Lord to dare do anything. Voldemort stood up, brandishing his wand as he walked up to the limp boy. All eyes were on the both of them, anticipation hanging in the air.

"How long will the potion keep him out?" He asked.

"Probably a few hours longer my Lord, I did not wish to take any chances." He replied.

Voldemort nodded, no doubt displeased that he couldn't hear the boy begging for his life, Severus knew the man enjoyed watching people plead for his mercy. It was like pleading a fire to not burn them. Pointless.

"Unfortunate, but commendable regardless. It is time to end what I started now, too much time has already been wasted."

Severus was not surprised, he knew what their Lord meant, as did the other two in the room. In the past he might have gleefully tortured and had his fun with the child, but after all the disasters that had struck them because of Tom, he was now taking far more affirmative action. No more risks, no more folly. Simply decisive solutions to his problems, and this boy was certainly a large one for him.

He watched with baited breath as the Dark Lord gracefully pointed his wand at the boy's head, this was it.

This was the end.


	25. Need

**A/N: **_Had some additional free time today so ended up writing two chapters. Chapter 24 was purposefully vague, just as the story in general has been. I attempt to leave a lot of the story open for the readers to interpret._

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**Chapter 25: Need**

Inhale. Exhale. Harry Potter could hear them talking around him, Snape and Voldemort himself discussing him. Hundreds of different emotions bombarded him from all sides. Fear and apprehension over being here. He could feel the incredibly powerful wards surrounding the property, Voldemort had clearly taken no chances about this place. There would be no leaving this place without destroying the ward stone. But he had already known that, Rabastan's memories had been very useful. Inhale. Exhale. He needed to keep his mind clear, keep his breathing even and his magic under control. Someone like Voldemort only needed to glance at someone to sense their magic and their mood. Rage, anger and recklessness fueled him, urging him to snap up and fight the man right now. No. Breathe in. Breathe out. Had to keep up the image of being unconscious. Had to keep his mind at ease.

Snape was talking again. That man had always been a question mark to him. Not even his stolen memories allowed him to fully discern his character. He had helped Voldemort, but he was also held close by Dumbledore. He had needed to know which side the man was on. But Harry also knew about the man's talent in the mind arts. Peeking into the mind of an established Occlumens was nigh impossible. Nigh impossible, but not completely unfeasible. There were times when even practitioners of the mind arts were weakened, usually when they experienced strong emotions or when they attacked themselves.

He had arrived at Hogwarts with the plan to provoke the man, anger him and give him his chance. Harry had expected it to take months, perhaps the entire year to succeed, but he had underestimated the sheer hatred the man held for his father. He had not angered Snape without reason during the first month, it had been intended from the start. In the end the word scoured from his father's journal, _Snivellus_, was all the ammunition he had ended up needing. Enraged the Potions Master had struck, anger clouding his mind while his blunt simple attack attempted to harm him. Harry couldn't have asked for a better opportunity, crushing the probe, causing the already emotional man incredible pain. In that second he had struck, his own probe sifting through everything he could lay his eyes on.

The man's allegiance had been surprising, he had expected loyalty to either Dumbledore or Voldemort, but the man only held it to a dead woman. Harry's own mother. Digging into that memory had exposed a hatred for Voldemort so vast it could fill an entire ocean. The man hated the Dark Lord for killing the only woman he had ever loved. Despised him with his entire soul. But was far more surprising, and infinitely more rewarding was the knowledge of the life-debt the man owed James Potter. And with his father's demise, owed him. The sheer possibilities that offered was mind-boggling, but he would not blow such an opening on folly. He had held on to the knowledge, saved it for the opportune time. Saved it for today.

Confunding Draco Malfoy had given it to him. He knew Snape had a soft spot for the child because of his mother. It was a weakness, and Harry knew how to exploit those. Malfoy's failure would have no doubt put his life in jeopardy, driving an already conflicted man into deeper desperation. He had erased all evidence from the Room of Requirement, leaving his enemies grasping at emptiness. Snape would want to protect Malfoy while also attempting to cover his own neck. That was when he struck, outlining his plan to him. The man had opposed him at first, thought his idea of infiltrating the Dark Lord's own manor was madness. Yet the debt was strong and unyielding, and Snape's lack of options left him open to the manipulation. A plan to poison him and remove him from the castle was made. No poison was drunk though. Snape had become his unwilling Trojan horse. His tool for infiltrating wards he could never have bypassed himself. The Dark Lord had let him in.

Tom's actions had driven Voldemort away from his army, left him secluded in this small manor with only the remains of his Inner Circle to protect him. The Horcruxes were gone. This was his best chance. Possibly his only chance before the man caught on to what was going on.

He could sense two other people in the room, but neither was Lucius Malfoy. Had to be Barty Crouch Jr and Bellatrix then. It was good that Lucius wasn't there, it might have hindered Snape's resolve, might have hindered his commitment to the debt. He could hear Voldemort's satisfied voice.

_"Unfortunate, but commendable regardless. It is time to end what I started now, too much time has already been wasted."_

Inhale. Exhale. This was it. He could feel the magic building in the tall pale man, it needed to happen now!

"Confringo!"

A shout of surprise followed by a wet exploding sound, like someone dropping a warm pie on the floor met his ears. A splash of warm liquid splattered his face, tasting faintly like copper. Blood. Knowing they were distracted he carefully opened his eyes, seeing both Voldemort and Bellatrix turn around and stare in shock at Snape who had just destroyed Barty completely, leaving only a wet trail of blood and entrails spreading across the floor. His unwilling ally had come through, just as the life-debt forced him to. Now!

"Traitor!" Bellatrix hissed at Snape, drawing out her own wand.

Neither of them noticed him stand up behind them, his wand already aimed for the back of her head while he dug out the Black ancestral dagger with his other hand. His non-verbal spell was instantly sensed by Voldemort who moved to dodge, but Harry had expected this, instead sending the Crushing hex into the exposed back of Bellatrix. Her head made a grotesque squelching sound as it cracked like a coconut dropped from a high altitude. The wicked witch crumpled to the floor, dead without even realizing it. Voldemort turned in surprise only to find the dagger already flying towards his chest. At this distance he would not miss. Finally it would end.

But it did not.

Voldemort was a veteran of countless fights, his body trained to react instinctively to any combat situation. A fraction of a second before the dagger could land his left hand came up, catching the blade in the flesh of his arm. The Withering Curse instantly took hold, but for a man like him it was not as deadly as Harry might have hoped. His magic rose furiously, blanketing the entire room in a dark oppressive feeling as the very blackness of his soul fought against the curse. Halted it in its tracks. Harry followed it up with a spell-chain, one already flying Voldemort's way courtesy of Snape, both of them hoping to end this now. But the man had not gone through countless rituals to hone his body for naught, like a snake covered in oil he moved between their spells, his own wand flashing as it blocked both of their attacks at the same time.

His response was furious, sheer hatred and rage fueling the spells as they rippled through the air. Insanity. No man should have so much sheer power. Harry focused his entire being on this very fight, evading and blocking as he could. His shield barely held back the furious power of his curses, his wand arm buckling like an ancient shield being hit by mallets. His Potter blood boiled for revenge, for vengeance, for his redemption against this demon. Every scrap of talent he had inherited and learned from his parents journals he put to use, transfiguring the room around them with speed that would leave most Aurors quiet, while abusing the charms in ways they were never intended. A simple Banishing Charm turned transfigured spikes into a shotgun of deadly steel, a Confunding Charm slipped past Voldemort's shield, the blocking aspects of the shield never intended for repulsing mental attacks. Cutters, Exploding Curses and Banishing Charms rained from his wand in between the unorthodox spell usage. Every shred of cunning and ingenuity went into his attack, hoping to overcome his enemy.

Yet it was all for naught.

Voldemort's magic ripped through his transfiguration like a hurricane, his mental attacks were like droplets of water trying to influence a speeding tsunami. Harry switched to the Dark Arts in desperation, but his talent in the area was nowhere near the man's expertise. His dark cutters were blown to pieces by dark Bludgeoning Curses, his Blood-boiling Curses were smashed aside by a sheer wall of black hatred. Harry shivered when he realized the man wasn't even at his full power now, the dagger in his arm was impairing him. He had to end it now, he needed to end it. This was nothing like he had imagined it, he expected Voldemort to be far weaker from his recent resurrection, yet the man seemed as indomitable as ever. Voldemort had clearly not wasted time in completing his rituals, retaining his former terrifying self in record time. He had thought his memories and skills would be enough to challenge the man with the help of Snape, but his own arrogance, the one thing Snape always complained about, was threatening to ruin everything. Harry's clever infiltration was turning into nothing more than an elaborate suicide.

Snape moved around the side, trying to attack him from the flank or simply get behind his back, but Voldemort's fury would not allow it, forcing them to dodge and move out of the way of curses that withered, boiled and simply corroded the manor around them. Acid burned holes through the floor while walls of fire erupted where the man pointed his wand. All men were supposed to have weaknesses, some habit they fell back on, some favorite spell they used. Not this demon. Not Voldemort. He was a perfection of warfare, moving through the rubble like he was dancing on polished parquet flooring while his wand dealt guaranteed death if not blocked or avoided. Walls made out of brick and stone buckled and tore before his spells, his wand movements perfect, his spell-chains without flaw, the unrelenting attack and defense leaving no openings.

He felt a massive surge of power build in the man and desperately conjured a wall before backing it with the strongest shield he knew. Yet the room clearing Banishing Charm Voldemort released tore chairs, shelves and tables from the floor, crushing them against the walls lining the wide oval room. Snape was sent flying like a leaf caught in the exhaust of an airplane, smashing against the unyielding brick walls with a harsh thump. Harry's own wall fared no better, rock and flooring ripping through his shield, cutting his face as it flew through his magical shield. A chunk of flooring smacked him in the head, sending him dazed to the floor. He shook his head, glad that his training had allowed him to keep hold of his wand. If he had to resort to his backup wand the fight was already over.

Blood drained from his face when he looked up, Voldemort had not sat idle during the opening the attack gave him. With no hesitation, no question whatsoever, he cleanly cut off his own arm at the elbow, removing the cursed dagger from his body. Of course. It was a weakness. The man had no inhibitions for utterly destroying anything that weakened him, even if it was a part of himself. Ruthless. Cold. Terribly efficient. A slick coating of silver slid down his wand before forming a new artificial arm where the old one had been cut off, stopping the bleeding.

Harry scrambled for Snape's body, pulling at the invisibility cloak hidden in his pocket. He had barely pulled the cloak out before a terrible feeling of dread spread over the room. He looked across the room at the pale skinned man sending waves of cold power coursing through the air.

He straightened to his full height and Harry could feel the magic that had been dedicated to stifling the curse now fueling his entire being. It was dark and suffocating, terrifying in its power. Every instinct in his body urged him to throw down his wand and kneel, or simply run away as fast as he could. Burning eyes the color of blood met his, victory and triumph glinting in them as a cold smirk grew on his lips. The man knew just as well as he did that this was the end. Trinkets and weapons that might work on normal humans would have little effect on him, his body was an instrument of war, every single weakness shaved away through the sacrifice of countless innocent lives.

No. Harry refused to snivel and cry, refused to sit there like so many of the man's victims had. His blood boiled in anger and for once he let it out, let his anger, rage and cold hatred fuel his magic. His Occlumency crumbled like dust as fury took over. If he died he would do it standing. Not bothering to waste his breath on useless talk he once more attacked, drawing from the deepest recesses of his soul for any and all power he could muster, anything to kill the man. If it cost him his own life then so be it, he would sacrifice everything to kill this beast.

There was no finesse or subtlety in his casting now, he funneled every single drop of what he had into his spells, colliding explosively with Voldemort's casting. Spell after spell rocketed out of his wand, but none of them could reach his target. There was power and determination, but those were not enough to overcome him. Fragmented memories were no match for seventy years of practice and muscle memory, even if a part of that had been spent as a shade. His body, while nearing the peak of where a young man might be, was still light-years away from the ritually honed body of his adversary. Voldemort moved like a reptile, lightning-quick graceful steps that moved him out of the way of dangerous spells while his casting was perfection in every form. Harry swore loudly, dredging his memory for anything that he might use against him, but found only dead ends.

The inevitable occurred soon enough, he was a tad slow evading a hissing red Cutting Curse, feeling it dig deeply into his side, nicking his ribs as it tore the skin to shreds. He groaned in pain, he wanted to bandage it before the blood loss became a factor, not for a second thinking a simple Episkey would heal anything sent by that man, but Voldemort did not allow for such things. Sensing his weakness he attacked even faster, sacrificing defense for more attack, bombarding him with one spell after another. Harry was panting loudly now, the exertion and pain slowing him down. His magical shields rang like a church bell being pummeled by hammers as he clawed for a way to escape the barrage. He had no idea how long it had been, a minute? Twenty? He blocked and moved as the room around him shattered underneath the Dark Lord's fury, dust and debris scattering through the air.

His next spell caught Harry off guard, an Explosive Hex smashing into the ground in front of his face, sending dirt into his eyes while he desperately shielded against the rubble. He realized his foe's strategy a second too late, as a purple buzz flew through the cloud of dust, ripping through his shield like it was paper before crushing his shoulder as it threw him against the already weakened wall. Pain engulfed him as he crashed and tumbled around from the force of the brutal spell. He blinked blurry eyes, looking around in a daze. He was leaning against the wall in a hallway outside of the room, apparently having flown cleanly through the plastered wall. The broken plaster had raised a cloud of dust, temporarily hiding him from Voldemort. Glancing at the invisibility cloak he miraculously still held in his left hand he entertained the idea of hiding, but even the slightest movement sent shock waves of pain through his now ruined shoulder. Looking down at his waist he could see blood drenching his robes, the cut in his side softly bleeding out his life. He was broken. Shattered.

A soft chuckle echoed through the dust. Even through the blood rushing in his ears he could hear the graceful clicks of Voldemort's heels as he approached the hole he had flown through, laughing in victory.

Harry would die here.

No. There was still one option. One last ditch effort. Taking that option this close to him was incredibly dangerous though. The risks were unmeasurable. Unimaginable. What he was planning was banned by the ICW itself and every single magical country in the world condemned it. If the Ministry of Magic found out what he had done, they would throw him directly into Azkaban. Might even throw him through the veil in fear of what his actions might have caused. His political power would not help him one whit and not even his money could buy his way out of any possible fallout. Provided he even survived this encounter. Provided his existence didn't simply shatter like a dropped mirror.

The soft clacking of the heels came closer. He had no options left, death itself was walking towards him. A nightmare. A cold ruthless execution. He had to do it. With his mind made up he prepared himself. He needed help.

He needed Tom.


End file.
